Insontis II - A Child of Two Worlds
by KCS
Summary: Gift fic for sierra scarlet. Starfleet Command has become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks ago. The Enterprise has been assigned to perform research, hopefully producing an allegiance with the Insonti people. And after all, observing the effects on a non-human species is the next logical step...
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: A Child of Two Worlds  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
Characters: (this bit) Kirk, Lady Amanda Grayson  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 2385  
**Warnings**: Crack. Written for **trek_crackbingo**. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character. See card space for further warnings  
**Card Space**: none  
**Card masters**: **schmoop_bingo** card | hc_bingo card (1) | hc_bingo card (2) | trek_crackbingo card )  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**A/N:** This and its continuing ficlets are my Christmas gift to a faithful reviewer, **sierra_scarlet**, who has been kind enough to review every single chapter of my _Insontis _arc, at times when my writing morale was quite low. In answer to a smallish poke in this direction, and in gratitude for your continuing support, here's your Spock-centric version of this silly universe, my dear. And a happy holiday season to you! :)

* * *

Lady Amanda Grayson was unaccustomed to receiving private communications from anyone. This, due primarily to being the wife of a prominent Federation ambassador, and due to Vulcan tradition in referring all communications to the head of house rather than directly to family members. All of her correspondence, personal and business, filtered to Sarek, who then of course promptly passed that correspondence on to her; and the only exception to this rule was contact from her son.

Spock, aboard the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, had discarded Vulcan tradition in this particular area some years after his first assignment to that vessel, and for that disregard she was more grateful than words could express. Her son was her primary reminder that she had helped to produce an, if not balanced, at least culturally content young man who was willing to bend his primary culture's strictures in order to make a human female happy. This spoke well of his future prospects in making human acquaintances, and possibly – she had hoped for well over a decade – even friends, anathema though it might be for a Vulcan to so speak publicly.

Then this enigmatic _Jim_ had begun to creep stealthily into her son's communications with her, and she had known just from those tiny glimpses that this remarkable human had already broken down the barriers which for years had kept her strictly-Vulcan son from forming human friendships. Over the years, she had learned about and finally met this unusual human, Spock's new captain, and a few select others aboard this new _Enterprise_; and now, four years after Spock's new appointment as Chief Science and First Officer, she had extended that informality of contact to James Kirk.

Captain Kirk had never abused the privilege of bypassing Vulcan culture to contact her directly, though Sarek was decidedly indifferent on the matter and would not have interfered (Amanda privately thought he was pleased to not have to sort through human correspondence), and indeed the man had only twice in the years since she had met him used the method of contacting her via Spock's private communique channel to Vulcan. Both times Kirk had done so, had been in emotional distress, notifying her that Spock was, once, seriously injured on an away mission; and another, deathly ill from the Vulcan-dreaded choriocytosis. Both professional courtesy calls, and deeply appreciated by her; for Kirk was under no obligations to notify her of her son's health or condition, and Spock himself would have died before informing her.

To receive, therefore, a notification that a live communique was awaiting her via subspace relay from the captain of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, was both unusual, and at first alarming, given that she had yet to receive good news by those methods.

But Kirk's first words were "Nothing's wrong with Spock, Lady Amanda," as he well knew her first instinct would be concern, and she smiled in gratitude at the gesture.

"That is reassuring news, Captain Kirk. How have you been?" she asked kindly, seeing immediately the young man's fidgeting – obviously he did have a purpose in calling, no doubt something to do with her son. "You are looking…more yourself, since the last I saw of you."

Kirk blushed, pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious embarrassment. "I licked the computer screen while Spock was talking to you, didn't I," he said, with an air of amused resignation.

She smiled, refraining with ease from laughing and therefore further mortifying the poor man. "I believe it is a common reaction from young children, Captain. Spock himself was the type to insert his fingers into every crevice and substance he could not readily identify at that age. It is merely a difference of primary sensory perception."

The captain perked up visibly at the tidbit of his friend's childhood, a grin twitching at his lips. "I can just imagine how curious Vulcan children must be, in their desire to know all things," he mused, almost to himself.

"Vulcan childhood is considerably different from human childhood, mainly due to the encouragement of mental development rather than physical affection and social interaction," she readily agreed. "Though even to a Vulcan, a child is precious, and is treated as the most valuable gift ever to be bestowed upon a family unit. That is why child abuse is unheard-of in Vulcan culture, and why such an offense is immediate grounds for the severest punishment possible under Vulcan law."

"Interesting," Kirk murmured. He was leaning with one elbow on the armrest of his chair, a crooked finger unconsciously tapping thoughtfully at his lower lip. "May I…ask a personal question, Lady Amanda? Or is that considered offensive, from an outworlder?"

"James," she immediately reproved, and received a somewhat shy smile of boyish charm in return. "You affront my own heritage, and your friendship with my son. You may ask what you like; if I am able to answer, I shall do so."

The captain blew out a slow, thoughtful breath, and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His sandy brows knitted together with concentration, and what she perceived as slight concern. "I thank you," he said formally, and she warmed at the thought that Spock's High Vulcan courtesy had unconsciously rubbed off on the man. "Then…may I ask – did Spock have a happy childhood?"

Amanda sighed, and idly rearranged a fold of her lightweight Vulcan robe. "You would, of course, strike straight at the heart of the matter, would you not, Captain," she answered ruefully. "That is not an easy question to answer."

"I'm sorry, Lady Amanda –"

"Do not be," she chided gently, and saw the captain relax. "I would like to say, Captain," she continued thoughtfully, "that he had as contented a childhood as any Vulcan could. And yet…"

"And yet his differences would not allow him the traditional happy childhood, just by virtue of his dual heritage?" Kirk finished softly. She nodded, knowing that this human at least, of all her acquaintances, would understand. "Was it really so obvious?" he asked quietly. "I can hardly believe that such a logical species would embrace such an outdated concept as racial purebloodedness."

"It is not simply a matter of race or species, so to speak, Captain," she responded, carefully choosing her words to offend neither of their cultures, both of whom she loved equally. "You must understand, Captain, that Vulcan clans and families are extremely close, far closer than any human families. A controlling of emotion does not negate its existence, that we both know; and the ties that bind families in Vulcan culture transcend all other ties, mentally and physically and otherwise."

Kirk's face betrayed his surprise at this.

"This should not be surprising to you, Captain," she said pointedly. "You of all people are no doubt aware that my son offers his loyalty very sparingly, and his friendship even more so. To accept you as he has…in our culture, that is akin to declaring you a part of the clan of Sarek. You and your Dr. McCoy, to be permitted attendance at his Time a few years ago – that was, at that time, considered to be sacrilege, essentially declaring two human outworlders as members of the family."

The captain's eyes widened. "I had no idea," he admitted, looking thoroughly shamefaced. "The sacrifice that must have cost him –"

"It was no sacrifice to Spock, Captain," she said sharply. "To a Vulcan, those relationships permitted under the laws of Surak and the Vulcan Way are the most precious bonds in the universe, the preservation of which takes precedent over all other considerations. Such deep bonds are rare indeed, Captain, and it is no sacrifice to ensure their survival against all opposition."

The young man's head dropped in acquiescence. "I've offended you, Lady Amanda. I apologize for my ignorance," he said quietly.

She smiled then, a genuine and rare display that felt no less natural than her bland Vulcan expressions. "James, you are as much a diplomat as my husband. I am unoffended, I assure you." Kirk raised his eyes, one eyebrow quirked at the screen. "I merely wish you to understand that, to a Vulcan, such a thing is no sacrifice. Spock would never wish your compassion for what he sees as a perfectly logical action."

"I see," Kirk replied, obviously thinking deeply about this. "Then Vulcan culture cherishes its relationships as much as humans do; they simply have different methods of showing this."

"Indeed. If anything, a Vulcan cherishes his relationships even more so than a human is capable of; because such a sharing of emotion is an immense personal gift of lowered barriers and shared boundaries. It is not a gift to be taken lightly, and – to return to your original question – both Sarek and I attempted to emulate that with Spock to our best abilities when he was a youngling."

Kirk obviously recognized the closing of the conversational door, and respectfully moved on. "And yet…?" he questioned.

Amanda sighed once more, a human expression of regret. "And yet, Spock was different, Captain. That much, we both know, as even today he still struggles to be fully Vulcan yet still utilize the benefits of being part human. Such a struggle can never be won, without fully accepting both; something a mere child had no hope of doing."

"He tried too hard to be Vulcan, and never won that struggle in the eyes of his peers, is that it?" Kirk asked quietly.

"You have a remarkable grasp of his thought processes, Captain," was her diplomatic answer. "I believe you could correctly predict the type of childhood he had. Because familial ties are so very important to Vulcan culture, to make those ties, those bonds, and the possibilities generated by them, less pure due to outworldly influence – _that_ is why Spock's dual heritage is frowned upon in our world, Captain; because his prospects of mating, of taking a place in Vulcan society, and of continuing the purity of thought which characterizes Vulcanity, have been compromised due to his dual nature. It is not a matter of specist prejudice; rather, it is the knowledge that such a union produces a weak link in a highly proud culture."

"I see no difference," Kirk muttered, eyes flashing with controlled anger.

"And yet it exists, Captain," she replied, unruffled. "I am accepted as the bond-mate of Sarek, and possess full rights thereof; my son is the heir of the house of Sarek, with full rights thereof. Politically, there is no difference due to our mixed blood. It is there, in the eye of society, that the differences show in personal opinions. Spock's half-human mind is at severely high risk to never find a compatible bond-mate. His dual nature is considered a weak link in Vulcan culture, a culture of pure emotional control."

"I find such subjective judgments highly illogical," the captain stated with a scowl, and she hid a smile at the unconsciously Vulcan inflection.

"However," she continued, in a tone designed to sooth, "Spock is renowned in the Vulcan Science Academy as a brilliant scientist; they keenly recognize the value of adding human intuition and instinct to scientific processes, and regard him as a miracle of science itself. It is the common people, and their common children, who still hold to the outdated beliefs that his mixed heritage makes him a weak link in our world's society."

"May I ask…" Kirk paused, and after a moment's hesitation plowed onward with a determination that amused her greatly, "may I ask – if you could change something about his childhood, what would that be, Lady Amanda?"

She regarded him shrewdly for a moment. "Are you asking out of personal curiosity, Captain, or because your recent childlike experiences have afforded you too much time for reflection – or for another reason entirely?" she asked, fixing him with a sharp gaze that made him fidget in his chair.

Hazel eyes finally met hers with a determined glint. "We've been granted permission by Starfleet Command to further negotiate with the Insonti people, and specifically to gain more insight into this Regenratron device," he said bluntly. "Spock is…let's say, somewhat obsessed with the process and its purpose."

"Ah."

"I can't help but wonder if he's going to come to me in the next few days with a request for another guinea pig for the thing," Kirk continued, a rueful grin quirking at his lips, "and some load of bull about not being willing to have another crewman take the risk, a variable of a different species being the most logical choice, blah blah blah. All in the name of Science, of course."

Amanda hid her smile at the human's quick perception of Vulcan misdirection. "You believe he is going to ask to be the next test subject, Captain?"

"Either that, or he will confer with the Insonti high council as part of our science team's research and they'll take the initiative to just shove him in the thing for his own good," Kirk admitted, with only a trace of humor. "They do tend to be a bit presumptuous in thinking it's a good thing for everyone. I…I wanted to make certain that it would be that, for Spock, rather than being traumatizing to a carefully controlled Vulcan mind. I wanted to know if a second childhood would be at all beneficial to him; if it would not, I will not hesitate to lay down an ultimatum to the Insonti high priest about my First Officer being off-limits to their technology."

Lady Amanda straightened slightly in her chair to meet Kirk's eyes, her heart going out to this remarkable human whose sincere affection for her son fairly shone out of his honest face. "You are a good man, Captain Kirk," she said simply. "And to answer your question: if I could change one thing regarding my son's upbringing, it would have been that Spock could have had one person in the galaxy whom he knew would accept and love him wholeheartedly for being Spock. Not of Vulcan and Terra, not of the clan of Sarek, not a child of two worlds – just _Spock_."

Relief suddenly flashed across the young man's face, lightening the deep worry lines around his eyes and between his eyebrows.

"I can do that," Kirk said with a charming grin. "You'll want to see pictures, I assume?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: First Impressions  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, McCoy, Chapel, bb!Spock, various  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 2385  
**Warnings**: Crack. Written for **trek_crackbingo**. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character. See card space for further warnings  
**Card Space**: none  
**Card masters**: **schmoop_bingo** card | hc_bingo card (1) | hc_bingo card (2) | trek_crackbingo card )  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**A/N:** This and its continuing ficlets are my Christmas gift to a faithful reviewer, **sierra_scarlet**, who has been kind enough to review every single chapter of my _Insontis _arc, at times when my writing morale was quite low. A happy holiday season to you and to everyone who commented on the first chapter - I was floored and flattered by the response this already has gotten! :)

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**  
When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-0-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions

* * *

**_Captain's__ Log, Stardate 4317.6_**

_In accordance with Command's latest mission, the _Enterprise_ has been in geosynchronous orbit around the planet Insontis for six-point-five days, conferring with the Insonti High Council as well as the governing body's research and medical teams, in our efforts to further understand the remarkable technology which causes the transformations in the device known as the Regenratron. Having had personal experience with the device in question, I remain much impressed by the sophistication of the technology, particularly the protective failsafes installed in the process which ultimately saved my life during the recent Klingon attacks upon the _Enterprise_._

_Commander Spock has been given free reign by Starfleet Command to perform whatever tests he deems necessary to unravel the mysteriously advanced technology which the Insonti employ, and he and his science departments have been in long conference with the Insonti people. Though still reluctant to join the Federation officially due to their peaceful natures, the Insonti are yet more than willing to cooperate in scientific ventures, and have been both eager to please and highly informative to my Chief Science Officer. _

_Full report to Starfleet Command to follow._

"See that that goes out with the next packet from Mr. Spock's departments, Lieutenant," he added, handing off the dictapadd to his Communications Chief.

"Aye, sir. And Dr. McCoy reports crew efficiency nearly back to normal, as per your request earlier, Captain."

"Excellent. Hopefully the rest for the next week or so will do them good; they deserve it, after what we've all been through the last few months." The captain settled back contentedly in his chair, idly flicking through a report from one of Spock's research teams. "Status of final engine repairs?"

"Mr. Scott reports engines fully operational, and in even better condition than before our leetle skirmish, sir," Chekov piped up from the helm, where he was obviously in communication with their Engineering department. They had taken the opportunity to remain in a stable orbit around a peaceful planet as a chance to catch up on many minor repairs which had gone unheeded in the chaos following Kirk's retransformation. "He says ve are quite space-worthy, and vill be in perfect condition by the end of next week."

"Thank you, Mr. Chekov. And –" He glanced up as the comm whistled. "Bridge, Kirk here."

_"Chapel here, Captain." _He recognized a slight note of dismay in his Head Nurse's voice, and sat up a bit straighter; Chapel was on the planet as part of one of Spock's away teams. _"Sir…we have a bit of a problem."_

Kirk stared blankly at the comm, with its red light winking cheerfully back at him, and then slumped back with a groan. "He didn't!"

_"I'm afraid so, sir,"_ was the response, though he thought Chapel sounded more amused than anything else.

"He couldn't have waited another twenty-four hours?" he demanded crossly, scowling down at the padd in his hands. "He's just dumped me with six hours' worth of executive paperwork _and_ a conference call with Admiral Cartwright later!"

A muffled giggle filtered through the comm, and the Bridge officers eyed each other with clueless expressions. _"I'm certain he didn't plan it that way, Captain,"_ Chapel offered unconvincingly.

"I'm sure," he muttered, slamming the padd down on the chair and launching himself to his feet. "On my way to the Transporter Room. Have Dr. McCoy meet me there. And if he's old enough to understand you, tell him he's a _dead_ Vulcan for not giving me any warning!"

The turbolift doors shut behind the irritated captain, leaving the rest of the alpha shift crew staring at each other in bewilderment.

_"Mr. Sulu, you have the conn,"_ the intra-comm crackled suddenly, an obvious afterthought, and the young helmsman shared a glance with his seatmate.

"If that means what I think it means, then you'd probably better be ready to take over the Science station, Pavel," Sulu said dryly. "For about three months, I'd say."

* * *

"You can't be serious."

"I'm afraid so, Bones," he sighed. Leaning against the wall outside the transporter room, he rubbed absently at his temples and inhaled a long, calming breath.

"That cold-blooded excuse for a –"

"Doctor McCoy!" Kirk snapped sharply. "I am already frustrated enough with the situation, and you're not helping either of us calm down enough that we don't scare the poor kid into the next quadrant! You know he'll be able to sense our annoyance!"

"_Frustration_! _Annoyance_! Do you have any idea how much I _don't_ want to be a father-figure to anyone again for a long, long time?" McCoy demanded. "Especially a tiny little insufferable _Vulcan_?"

The captain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. "Bones," he finally said, more calmly, and placed a hand on the physician's shoulder. "If anyone deserves a second chance at having a happy childhood, Spock does. If he chose to drop himself in the middle of it without telling us beforehand…well, it only shows that he trusts us enough to do right by him."

"You don't seem very surprised," McCoy said suspiciously.

"I'm not, only that he did it without any warning to me," was the weary response. "He must have just seized the opportunity before he could lose his nerve, if I had to guess."

The physician deflated visibly, groaning into his hands. "I dunno anything about Vulcan children," he moaned. "I don't even know if they develop at the same rate as human children, or eat the same things, or - or! Augh!"

"I've done a bit of research," Kirk admitted. "We'll muddle through it together, Bones. And anyway, I doubt it'll take near as long as it did for me; Vulcans learn so much more quickly than humans, I suspect he'll age faster than I did. Either way," he added, straightening his tunic in preparation to enter the transporter room, "it's only fair to give him this chance, if you think about the childhood he must have had."

McCoy favored him with a sour glare that clearly said he didn't much care what kind of childhood Spock had had, just that he was not cut out to coddle a baby Vulcan; and yet the physician's compassionate heart won over his irritation, and he carefully hid the frustrated emotions behind a veneer of professionalism, for the sake of the tiny touch telepath that was about to crash land in their lives.

"We'll talk more about this later, Doctor," Kirk said shortly, giving his tunic a final tug and turning toward the opening doors.

Would they ever have a mission that was _normal_? He wondered, as he followed his captain into the transporter room.

* * *

McCoy had expected to find his Head Nurse holding a pointy-eared infant, as Jim had shown up on the _Enterprise_ in a tiny bassinet. But whereas Jim had introduced himself to his crew as a shrieking twelve-month-old, the tiny child beside Christine Chapel was standing on his own two feet, if a bit precariously balanced, and was not making a peep.

Huge dark eyes and a little head of silky black hair peeked over the stiff collar of a toddler-sized robe no doubt borrowed from one of the Insonti children. Tiny fingers were latched firmly around Chapel's leg, as their toddler-sized First Officer observed the new world around him in wide-eyed and awestruck silence.

"Why in tarnation did he have to be so danged _cute_," McCoy muttered grumpily, ignoring the ridiculous cooing of the Security guard detachment stationed just inside the door.

He heard a stifled laugh from Jim, who had immediately and comfortably dropped to an easy crouch on one knee in front of the transporter pad, putting his face on eye level with the tiny child's.

"Hello, Spock," he said softly, and the child's eyes darted shyly to his face as he half-hid behind the nurse's legs.

"He's about a year old, from what we could see, Captain," Chapel said quietly over their heads. She smiled down at the little one. "Vulcan children are more mature than human children at their various ages; he can walk, or at least toddle, and he can probably speak a few words, if he was a typical Vulcan child and his human side not dominant in those formative years."

"Since when did you become the expert on Vulcan child rearing, Nurse?" McCoy asked incredulously.

"Since I realized what he was planning, Doctor," she retorted, staggering slightly as Spock hid behind her legs, peeking out with one dark eye at the captain's patiently smiling face. "Though I had no idea he planned to make himself a test subject so soon, I admit."

"Spock?" Jim tried again, and this time the child edged slowly out, eyes fastened inquisitively on his face. "That's it," he encouraged gently, and extended a hand slowly. Spock regarded it with utter cluelessness. "How much can he understand me, do you think?"

"I have no way of knowing, Captain; I doubt he comprehends much more than, say, your average toddler – possibly less. We just have no way of telling, not without further data."

"All right. Spock, can you come here?" The captain's voice was still gentle, and the smile had never left his face – and really, no one could blame him, because Spock as a wide-eyed, curious baby Vulcan was nothing less than _adorable_.

It made McCoy want to throw up.

The little one regarded the crouching human with the same expressionless, silent curiosity he had hitherto employed, but finally took a shuffling step forward, barely escaping tripping on the folds of the oversized robe.

"That's it," Jim whispered encouragingly, smiling. He extended his hand again, this time palm outward. "Come 'ere, you."

Spock's head tilted to one side quizzically, as he examined the hand before him. Then, finally, tiny fingers reached out of the robe's folds and carefully settled into a mirroring position in the center of the much larger palm.

"All right?" the captain asked solemnly.

Spock finally gave him a calculating nod that elicited a small squee from the transporter operator – whom McCoy then favored with his best glare of Slow and Painful Death, before shaking his head at the lunacy of the entire situation.

"May I pick you up now, Spock?" Kirk was asking seriously, though he barely waited for the tiny slanted eyebrow to rise before swinging the startled toddler up into his arms.

Spock gave a breathy gasp of surprise, before staring wide-eyed over the captain's shoulder at what was now a world at an all-new elevated level. Small hands latched tightly onto the captain's gold tunic at the neck.

"Okay?"

Dark hair bobbed in an affirmative, as curiosity won over surprise in the child's expression.

"Right, then – it's Sickbay for you, little mister," the captain said with a grin, bouncing toward the door and into the corridor beyond with all the abandon of childhood himself. "Come on, Bones!" he yelled over one shoulder, oblivious to the small scowl of disgust directed at the side of his head from a toddler with sensitive Vulcan hearing.

"That," Lieutenant Kyle said slowly, as the door shut on the sounds of the captain's humming (or attempt at such, as Kirk couldn't carry a tune to save his life), "was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Oh, for the love of Pete," McCoy growled, storming out of the room in pursuit of his newest patient. "Christine, get the man a _mop_, will you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Instincts  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, McCoy, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 938  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**A/N:** This and its continuing ficlets are my Christmas gift to a faithful reviewer, **sierra_scarlet**, who has been kind enough to review every single chapter of my _Insontis _arc, at times when my writing morale was quite low. A happy holiday season to you and to everyone who commented on the first chapter - I was floored and flattered by the response this already has gotten! :)

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**  
When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts

* * *

By the time he'd caught up with their adult captain (who was about as mature at the moment as his five-year-old self had been, this was going to be a nightmare) and infant First Officer, Jim had already plopped the startled child down on a bio-bed in a secluded corner of Sickbay, whereupon the default-human bed sensors promptly wailed and screeched a warning of heinous volume, thinking that the infant Vulcan readings meant the occupant of the bed was crashing.

Spock's eyes widened to epic proportions of fright, and two tiny hands shot up to cover his little pointed ears even as the startled captain slapped frantically at buttons to shut off the klaxons.

"Get outta my way," McCoy muttered, shooing Kirk away and immediately recalibrating the bed to Spock's typical readings, adjusting slowly until they looked somewhat normal, if a bit low for him. "Sorry about that, kiddo," he murmured absently, frowning at the display.

Spock peered curiously up at him from under a dark fringe, ears still covered by his hands.

The bed finally having been calibrated to his satisfaction, McCoy gave the dark head a gentle pat and moved to a cabinet for a med-scanner.

"He's not as scary as he sounds," he heard a loud whisper from behind him, and rolled his eyes. He retrieved a scanner that could be adjusted to child-sized life forms (not that it was really going to help him any, since he barely knew Spock's adult anatomy and physiological makeup), along with two hyposprays of vitamin boosters, and then returned to the bed.

Spock had removed his hands, but was still eyeing the bed's sensor board warily. The entire lack of sound coming from the toddler was just flat eerie; both his little Joanna and, more recently, Jim Kirk had announced their disgust with the world in general in the most vociferous terms possible – but this weird, total silence from a twelve-month-old was just _creepy_. He suspected Vulcan children were born _knowing_ crying was illogical, poor little things.

"Okay, squirt, here's the deal," he said, not unkindly, though the intensity of Spock's curious stare was beginning to thoroughly creep him out. "You sit still and let me make sure you're in decent shape, all things considered, and then you can go with the captain here and see the ship. That sound all right to you?" He'd no idea if the child was able to comprehend complex sentences, but he also didn't want to start talking baby-talk and have the kid announce suddenly that 'speaking gibberish was illogical' or something.

Spock only blinked at him, one slanted eyebrow slowly rising up his tiny forehead.

"Be good for Doctor Bones, Spock," Jim supplied helpfully.

Spock looked back at his captain for visual confirmation, and then finally gave the doctor a slow nod, eyes fastened curiously on the blinking lights of the med-scanner.

One quick sweep over the tiny body to gather information, and McCoy sent the results to his personal computer before handing the scanner over with a small grin. Spock's dark eyes fairly lit up with interest, and he took the instrument eagerly, immediately beginning to push buttons at random and watch the results. Thus busily engaged, the child was unaware of the approaching vitamin hypospray until it had depressed gently into his neck.

Tiny eyebrows clenched fearsomely as Spock then glared at him, rubbing the side of his neck with one hand. Overhead, Jim stifled a laugh, and McCoy himself found it hard-pressed not to grin at the indignant look; obviously being ticked off wasn't considered illogical at one year old.

He crouched down in front of the bed, at eye level with the affronted child, and took Spock's tiny wrist with one hand, timing the rapid pulse in his preferred old-fashioned way. The contact did not appear to alarm the little one, for which he was grateful, but just the same he kept his grip gentle. "Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "But you're gonna need the vitamins if you're gonna grow up big and strong and smart, okay?"

Spock regarded him coolly for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side, and he watched the small face carefully, trying to gather any information he could about the child's mental state.

Then he nearly jumped out of his skin as tiny cold fingers suddenly reached out and touched his face in an eerily familiar approximation.

"Whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, though not out of any real alarm. "No baby mind-melds, kid."

But it had just been the gentle whisper of an inquiry, light and innocent and simply inquisitive, withdrawing from his consciousness the instant it had fluttered against it.

"Well?" he asked softly, unsure if this were normal behavior for a touch-telepathic child; it could be perfectly normal communication in Vulcan culture, for all they knew; and regardless, he wasn't about to start off with the kid telling him he'd innocently violated a cultural taboo. "Am I…satisfactory?"

"_Sha'hassu_," Spock spoke suddenly, the childlike timbre startlingly high-pitched after years of hearing their First's distinct low baritone. Once spoken with such declarative finality, the child reverted back to his shy demeanor, carefully hiding his face behind the med-scanner, which he was examining studiously.

"Uh…" While delighted to have produced Spock's first word (so to speak), he had no idea what that meant. "I take it that means some kind of yes?"

He glanced up, only to see Jim Kirk looking like he was about to melt into a captain-sized puddle in the middle of the Sickbay floor.

"Nope," the captain said with a sappy smile. "That's Vulcan for _my doctor_, Bones."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Lesson One, of sorts  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, Uhura, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 1112  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**A/N:** This and its continuing ficlets are my Christmas gift to a faithful reviewer, **sierra_scarlet**, who has been kind enough to review every single chapter of my _Insontis _arc, at times when my writing morale was quite low. A happy holiday season to you and to everyone who commented on the first chapter - I was floored and flattered by the response this already has gotten! :)

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts

* * *

When he had finally managed to pry his now infant First Officer out of the greedy clutches of a dozen squealing nurses and a much amused CMO, the captain finally made his escape from Sickbay with his precious cargo and managed to get to the Bridge without being waylaid by any other crewmen. Word spreads quickly aboard a starship, and he was relieved to see that his Bridge crew was looking for his reappearance with more resignation than surprise at the news that Commander Spock had been himself subjected to the Regenratron technology.

Even though it was three hours into beta shift, it looked as if the alpha shift crew had remained on duty to see their First Officer, and his heart warmed at the gesture of loyalty as he stepped out of the turbolift with a Vulcan toddler in his arms.

"Oh, Captain! He's so small!" Uhura exclaimed softly as he paused by her station. A pair of curious dark eyes peered at her over the top of a fleece blanket Kirk had appropriated to give the child extra warmth, and she smiled. "_Tonk'peh, Spock-kam_," she greeted Spock in his own tongue, and a flash of warmth flickered in the little one's expression. "Does he speak Standard, do you think, sir?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"The Insonti High Council said the language comprehension centers are not changed by the technology involved, merely regressed in vocabulary and communicative ability," Kirk replied, and she hid a smile as he unconsciously cuddled the child closer protectively. "He should develop Vulcan and Standard simultaneously if we continue to use both, from what the High Priest told me. Spock made recommendations to that effect in his own notes, which I've retrieved from his pre-transformation research. I will be relying on you to help develop that Vulcan portion, Lieutenant, as I'm afraid my own Vulcan is extremely basic and we've yet to decide whether or not to recall M'Benga or another doctor well-versed in Vulcan physiology."

"Of course, Captain." She smiled kindly at the inquisitive little one, who then promptly hid his face in a fold of the blanket against the captain's gold tunic. "He's a shy little thing, sir."

"I imagine he was indeed, as a child, Lieutenant," Kirk replied quietly. "Perhaps we will be of assistance in changing that aspect of his childhood."

An incoming transmission light began blinking at her, and she hastily turned her attention to filtering out the static caused by their close orbit around Insontis. The captain smiled reassuringly at his Communications Chief before continuing to the command dais, where he crouched down to deposit his bundle on the floor of the lower Bridge.

Spock sat after wobbling for only a moment, and blinked with an awestruck expression at his surroundings.

Chekov and Sulu grinned as the toddler then eagerly accepted the small medical tricorder which the captain fished out of a pocket. The tiny dark head bent studiously over the scanner, experimentally pushing buttons and watching the blinking lights which the actions produced.

"Sir, Starfleet Command for you on Channel One," Uhura spoke up from behind them.

"An entirely expected pleasure, thanks to you, you little stinker," Kirk muttered with no real rancor. He tucked the blanket around the oblivious toddler and then quickly vaulted to his feet, plopping himself down in his command chair with a defiant _thwock_. "Let's get it over with, Lieutenant."

-0-

"Captain Kirk," Admiral Cartwright reiterated sharply, twenty minutes into the vid-conference. "This was not what we had in mind when we granted Commander Spock permission to further study the Insonti technology!"

"I understand your concerns, Admirals," Kirk replied, unruffled. "However, I remind the council that he _was_ granted scientific _carte blanche_ in his departments' endeavors. That he, a Vulcan and a scientist, took that at its literal face value, should not be an unexpected conclusion. And, may I add, I agree with his preparatory notes and reasoning; we do need to test the effects on a non-human subject before we are capable of even attempting to unravel the technology involved. To refuse such an opportunity would have been contradictory to Commander Spock's very nature as the foremost scientist in his field."

"That's the biggest load of bull I've ever heard him spiel with a straight face to a bunch of Starfleet bigwigs," Sulu murmured under his breath.

Chekov, still staring wide-eyed at their tiny First Officer, who was calmly playing with his small tricorder, nodded emphatically.

"We can hardly keep the _Enterprise_ off active assignment for yet another four months, Captain Kirk," Komack interjected severely.

"Neither I nor Dr. McCoy, nor indeed the Insonti High Council anticipate it being anywhere near that long, sir," Kirk returned calmly. "All of us agree that the time for a mentally superior species to assimilate the lessons necessary for re-aging will be, in all probability, no longer than the _Enterprise_ was stationed here for research purposes. We will lose no more time than we would be in orbit anyway; I believe Commander Spock would never have agreed to so inconvenience the ship and handicap his departments had that been the case."

The board of admirals looked sourly at him on the Bridge's viewscreen, and he decided a strategic change of tactic was in order.

"Besides, Admirals," he added, suddenly swinging a startled Vulcan toddler up in front of him, "how can you be irritated with something this _cute_?"

Wide-eyed, Spock blinked at the dozen elderly admirals in shy fascination, apparently not minding the fact that he was being held in mid-air under the arms by a grinning human.

An undignified snort, followed by a barely muffled fit of snickering from the aging Admiral Archer set the relaxed precedent Kirk had been hoping for, and after Cartwright had groaned and signed them off with a resigned sigh, he grinned at his Bridge crew with satisfaction.

"Our little one is going to be spoiled rotten before he's six years old, you are aware, Captain," Uhura inquired with a smile.

"Totally." Kirk chirped, grinning. "What say we go see what Doctor Bones is doing about setting you up for the night, kiddo?" he continued, looking down at his tiny First Officer, who merely raised a small slanted eyebrow in incomprehension.

"_Sha'hassu_?"

"_T'etek'hassu_," he corrected, not missing the coo of delight from Uhura at hearing the distinction. "Don't tell me one of the lessons I have to teach you is how to _share_?"

* * *

**Notes on Vulcan language:** -kam is the suffix indicating a term of endearment, usually used with children; thus, _Spock-kam_ is the proper Vulcan way to address a child affectionately. T'etek- is the plural possessive; _T'tetek'hassu_ means _our doctor_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Lesson Three  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 1093  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**A/N:** This and its continuing ficlets are my Christmas gift to a faithful reviewer, **sierra_scarlet**, who has been kind enough to review every single chapter of my _Insontis _arc, at times when my writing morale was quite low. A happy holiday season to you and to everyone who commented on the first chapter - I was floored and flattered by the response this already has gotten! :)

**A/N2:** Remember, I tend to skip around in these arcs, so yes there is a lesson missing here. I needed Spock to be a bit older, as I've had a week from you-know-where and wanted fluff. :P

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Lesson Three

* * *

If bad things always came in threes, as his Grandma Kirk had always said, then he wryly reflected that he was well into his sixth set of threes by this point in an already bad day.

Spock's sudden departure, however planned for prior to the Insonti incident, had nonetheless thrown the ship into something of a handicap; he had never really realized just how integral his First was to the Enterprise's inner workings until now. Saddled with an unanticipated amount of paperwork which Spock usually directed, redirected, and misdirected to spare him the tedium, he had spent the majority of this single day off signing requisitions, reading reports, correlating data, and various other endless minutiae which usually fell to his ranking XO.

A pounding headache had not done his tolerance levels any favors, as his unfortunate yeoman discovered when she attempted to coax him into eating lunch, and later dinner; and it was only after he realized he'd reduced the poor girl to tears by his brusque dismissal of her entirely appropriate concerns that he decided it wasn't just his command image suffering because of his lack of a brilliant Vulcan First.

In addition to the added strain of running the ship practically single-handedly, he had not been sleeping well for the last four days. This was in part due to simple stress; he had always been a light sleeper, and when his mind was running a thousand parsecs a second he found himself waking every hour or so, still pondering problems and simply unable to fully shut down. His bouts of sleeplessness were also due in part, two of those nights, to the fact that their now three-year-old Spock apparently had learnt quickly how to deactivate the alarms on his child bed in Sickbay and had escaped two nights running, prompting an all-out panic when McCoy popped in at midnight to check on his tiny charge.

Spock had been found within thirty minutes both times, sitting calmly in a deserted corridor and poring over one of the small instruments he'd been given to play with, but the damage to all their sleep cycles had been done. The toddler's protests that it was illogical to expect him to follow a Terran child's sleep cycles had been met with firm medical overrides and threats of bodily dismemberment from a very scared Chief Medical Officer, which were only countered with a raised eyebrow and the observation that sleep deprivation was directly correlative to Dr. McCoy's decibel level. Jim had tried not to laugh, for sake of a unified front, and also because he was more annoyed than anything else with their curious little resident Vulcan and if he spoke, Spock would certainly pick that up.

All in all, it had been a trying week, though not without its bright spots, and an extremely trying day.

Desperately rubbing at his temples in an effort to ward off the pain of an approaching migraine, he barely heard the pneumatic hiss of the door opening behind him, and so started violently when something small suddenly scrambled with somehow graceful dignity onto the small sofa beside him.

He had never recalibrated his door's locking sensors, and as they had been programmed to unlock at the First Officer's bio-signature from their first year aboard, Spock could enter his cabin at will even in this regressed state. He'd kept that on purpose, in case the child needed him or a private refuge and was unable to access the computer or his own cabin.

"Spock, for pity's sake," he murmured, heart rate returning to normal. "Does Dr. McCoy know you're in here?"

"He does," the toddler intoned solemnly. Kirk glanced over, to see something flicker in the dark eyes currently fixated on his face.

"What is it?"

A tiny hand picked aimlessly at a bit of fluff on the sofa cushion. "Are you enduring what is called a 'bad day', Captain-Jim?"

He nearly swallowed his tongue at being so addressed by a Vulcan child so tiny it was slightly creepy, but managed to do no more than smile at the earnest little one. "It has been a long day, Spock. I am sorry I wasn't able to see you much today."

"A day is neither longer nor shorter than twenty-four cycles," Spock corrected, obviously mystified, and apparently entirely ignoring his apology for neglecting the child in favor of catching up on a paperwork pile-up.

He hid a laugh, relaxing slightly. "So it is, Spock. It's a human expression; it means that the day seemed longer, due to the amount of unpleasantness it entailed."

The toddler nodded seriously, committing this to memory. Then Spock frowned slightly, and edged closer to him.

"Captain-Jim?" Spock had somehow got it into his little head that that was his proper name, hearing both from various members of the crew and McCoy, and no matter how often he was corrected the child stubbornly insisted on addressing him as such. It was a bit adorable, really.

He absently wondered if the child was perceptive enough to realize what he was doing should he get up and take one of McCoy's headache pills. "Yes, Spock."

"Have there been any attempts to remedy this situation?"

"…What situation?"

Dark eyes glinted severely. "This 'bad day', Captain-Jim."

He carefully did not laugh, no matter how tempting it was, and slowly shook his head, smiling slightly. "There have not, Spock."

Small slanted eyebrows darted downward in a fearsome scowl. "Unacceptable," the toddler pronounced with finality.

He cocked an inquisitive eyebrow back at the little one, much amused. "Indeed?"

"Indeed," Spock repeated severely. Carefully setting aside his ever-present data-padd, the child then clambered unceremoniously into his startled captain's lap, settling down with folded hands and a resigned air of patient endurance, much like a cat who permits an unruly child to pet it without scratching in self-defense. "I am given to understand from a topical study that physical contact is the preferred method of comfort for humanoid species," the little one continued, quite seriously. "You may engage in one such display if it is of comfort to you, Captain-Jim."

Kirk choked down a laugh, sounding suspiciously like a sob, and gave the child an affectionate squeeze, hiding his smile in the mop of dark hair. His headache had receded, somehow, and his affectionate gratitude warmed them both as they sat for a moment.

"I am honored, Spock," he finally said, knowing the warmth in his tone – and heart – would bleed clearly through the physical contact.

"Indeed," the child agreed with an air of tolerant smugness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: _ Lesson Two_, or, _The Obligatory Bubble Bath Fic_  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, bb!Spock, bit of McCoy and Chapel  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 1765  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**A/N:** This and its continuing ficlets are my Christmas gift to a faithful reviewer, **sierra_scarlet**, who has been kind enough to review every single chapter of my _Insontis _arc, at times when my writing morale was quite low. A happy holiday season to you and to everyone who commented on the first chapter - I was floored and flattered by the response this already has gotten! :)

**A/N2:** Written as a request-gift for my good friend, **protectorgf**, and because I've been sick lately and wanted shamelessly self-indulgent fluff. You have been duly warned.

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three

* * *

Like that of any even slightly mysterious species, the lore surrounding Vulcan physiology was both plentiful and highly exaggerated. The rumor that a Vulcan could not become intoxicated by alcohol but by chocolate, for example: while it was true that Vulcan metabolism could metabolize alcohol and could not metabolize chocolate, it was untrue that a cup of chocolate milk would produce a drunken Vulcan, and even a Vulcan could become intoxicated from a beverage in which the alcohol content was high enough, such as Romulan ale. The intoxicating effects of the much-hyped chocolate had more to do with complex sugars than the cacao itself; Kirk had found this out to his great interest, one long shuttle ride in which he offered his First Officer a peppermint with rather interesting results. (1)

But the rumor that, being descendant from a felinoid species, Vulcans hate water –

That one, apparently, was true.

McCoy's drenched sleeves bore silent testimony to it.

"I'm not dealin' with this," he snarled as he stalked past, while the captain tried valiantly to hide his laughter. "You gave him the green light to turn himself into a pint-sized bucket of Trouble, so _you_ can be the one to explain why taking a bath is _too_, logical. _I'm_ going to dinner."

Had Sickbay's automatic doors been capable of slamming, they no doubt would have behind their cranky Chief Medical Officer. As it stood, the captain blinked in some surprise for a moment, and then turned toward Nurse Chapel, who was recalibrating a sensor-array on a malfunctioning bio-bed.

"Nurse –"

"No," she said dryly, without turning around. "The situation is quite awkward enough, Captain, and will be even more so when he reverts to his proper age. I am not stepping foot in that room, even if he is little more than an infant."

"But –"

"_Captain_."

Kirk sighed, and ruefully made his way toward the cubicle where McCoy had fifteen minutes before prepared a bath for their now toddler-sized First Officer. Ordinarily, just from their shared bathroom between cabins, he knew Spock preferred sonic cleansing; but the harsh sonics were harmful to a child's more sensitive skin, and so they were not a viable option for Spock at this point.

Apparently, however, this did not appear to deter the toddler's opinion, for he was quite vociferous in his protests against being submerged even in warm, bubble-laden water – as McCoy's drenched uniform had so told the world.

The door shut behind him silently, and he glanced around with approval at the elevated temperature of the room; it felt boiling hot to him, and so it must be comfortable for a Vulcan child. That meant there was no real reason for Spock's (for lack of a better word) tantrum, and he intended to use that tack when coaxing the little one to submit to this crucial part of every child's development.

Spock was sitting, wrapped in an oversized, fluffy towel, on a small stool to the side of the tiny tub, which McCoy had requisitioned for just this purpose – about the size of a foot-bath, shallow enough to prevent the toddler from drowning even should an adult's watchful eye wander. A froth of foamy bubbles floated on the top of the steaming water, but the child's dark eyes glared at them over the edge of the towel with a ferocious loathing Kirk had never seen on a Vulcan before.

All in all, Spock looked a bit like a fluffy dark-haired burrito, squirreled into the recesses of the towel to hide his indignity. Kirk was quite proud of the fact that he managed to hide his grin.

"Spock," he said with a firmness he had always reserved for his nephews when they were trying to pull a similar stunt. "Your behavior toward Dr. McCoy is not only rude but also illogical. What logic is there in remaining dirty when you have the opportunity to be clean?"

"I am not yet unclean enough to require such drastic measures," was the lofty response, delivered in a tone that clearly said _you humans are such idiots, why do I even bother_.

"You will show your elders the proper respect they are due, Spock," he replied sternly, and saw the child's gaze flicker downward in mortification. He had done much research, including long talks with the Lady Amanda, about how to rear a Vulcan child; and she had emphasized above all, that a firm societal structure was crucial to building boundaries for such a logical mind, even at a very young age. "That includes all medical prescriptions given by Dr. McCoy, and the orders I give you – do you deny this?"

"No, Captain-Jim," Spock replied softly, and he felt his heart melt on the instant.

Crouching down in front of the child, he smiled reassuringly, knowing that even a Vulcan relied on physical expression – facial expression, especially – as a source of cultural understanding. "Nobody's angry at you, Spock, and I get that you don't like the water – but there is no alternative, since you are too young to be subjected to the type of harsh sonics that the Enterprise uses in its cleansing cubicles. Do you understand this?"

He received a dismal nod.

"Now, the quicker you hop in there, the quicker you can be done; is that not logical?"

Evidently, however developed a three-year-old Vulcan's vocabulary was, the ability to control facial features was still in progress, for it was the first time he'd ever seen Spock actually scowl at him.

It was so cute he wanted to just squish the little guy.

Fortunately, he also knew that would be unacceptable to a Vulcan in any form, and so he only looked meaningfully at the steaming tub and then stuck his hand in the water to test it while Spock reluctantly scooted off the stool, still glaring murder out of two adorable dark eyes.

"Nice and warm," he said with a grin, which did nothing to alleviate Spock's annoyance. "Now hop in, while I figure out where Bones put your shampoo."

"I am not in need of assistance," Spock said severely, tiny eyebrows drawing down in disapproval.

"Okay," he agreed cheerfully, finally locating the bottle of child-friendly shampoo in the wall cupboard. Seeing an assortment of child's bath toys as well, he grinned – McCoy liked to say he had no desire to be a father figure any more, but these didn't just appear; they had to be specially requisitioned from the quartermaster and SS&R. Snatching up a rubber duck and two toy models of generic constitution-class starships, he continued. "But we humans like to help the people we care for; and to let us have our cultural differences is logical, isn't it?"

There was a small splash behind him, and he turned to see the disgruntled toddler seated amid a truly impressive pile of bubbles, looking slightly mollified, probably more because the water was warmer than expected rather than because of his captain's _cultural differences_.

He squatted cheerfully beside the small tub and handed the child a washing cloth. "There, now – it's not so bad, is it?"

"It is…tolerable." Spock regarded the enormous amount of bubbles with barely-veiled distaste. "The scent of this…foam, however, is…" Kirk hid a laugh as the child's admittedly impressive vocabulary failed him. Spock waved a tiny hand in disgust.

"Gross?" he supplied, smiling.

Spock's tiny nose wrinkled, more from the slang than from the smell, which to the captain's more undiscerning nose was some bizarre combination of coconut and baby oil.

"Well, the sooner you get it over with, the sooner we can escape, hm? Hair first." He carefully squirted a dollop of shampoo into the tiny waiting hand, refraining from offering assistance as the child had made it quite clear he desired none.

Five minutes later, he wished desperately that it would not be an invasion of privacy (and ethics) to snap a picture; for the sight of a baby Vulcan studiously scrubbing his fine hair into a lather with both little hands was something he could sell for _thousands_ were he so inclined.

Spock's miserable expression when water was poured over his head to rinse reminded him of a wet cat, huddled dejectedly under a bush in the middle of a rainstorm. It was enough to make even the hardest heart melt, and he was far from that, where this particular Vulcan was concerned.

"What is that, Captain-Jim?"

He glanced down to where the toys he'd retrieved from the cupboard rested on a nearby towel; the brightly-colored objects had finally caught the attention of a curious baby Vulcan.

He schooled his face into a quite serious expression, and held up the first. "A crucial element of human culture, Spock," he said with perfect solemnity. "In childhood, it becomes one of the most recognizable elements in a human child's development. This, is called a _rubber duck_."

"An uninspired name," Spock commented, examining the creature with only cursory interest. The little eyes widened slightly when a squeeze produced a loud squeak. "Is it supposed to make this sound?"

"Indeed," was Kirk's straight-faced reply. "Human children are often gifted them as an object with which to amuse themselves during bathtime. Granted, I am aware that you are, to all appearances, Vulcan, Spock," he continued, and noted the proud gleam that flickered in the child's eyes at his words, "yet I believe it is logical to learn of the more harmless aspects of your half-human heritage, is it not?"

Spock regarded the toy with a critical eye, giving it another experimental squeak. "It is logical," the toddler finally declared with solemnity, and placed the rubber duck carefully on a pile of bubbles, whereupon it sank to the level of the water.

Hiding a smile, Kirk regarded that as a colossal triumph, and decided to forgo the toy starships.

With a Vulcan, it was not wise to press one's luck.

* * *

Half an hour later, the Officers' Mess very carefully did _not_ stare as their captain strolled blithely in for dinner, his gold tunic darkened with large drenched spots and with a squeaky-clean Vulcan child in his arms.

And if anyone noticed a small yellow duck clutched protectively under the toddler's left arm, well.

It was only logical to keep a gift, after all.

* * *

(1) I didn't have time to look this up, but I believe it was referenced in the novelization for _The Voyage Home; _while in San Francisco, Spock apparently ingested some kind of candy that produced a slightly intoxicating effect. Forgive my incomplete memory, but it really is out there somewhere in fanon-land.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: _ Communication _  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, bb!Spock, bit of McCoy and Uhura  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 1096  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.  
**This Bit Summary:** Spock has vocabulary lessons in Federation Standard. Kirk has vocabulary lessons in Vulcan. And general lessons in baby Vulcan tantrums. Warning for a disgusting amount of fluff and Vulcan lessons to those of you who like that kind of thing. :P

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Communication  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three

* * *

"_Khi-gad-yem_?"

"Lunch."

"L'unsch?"

"_Lunch_. L-un-chhah."

Seated at a small table in Rec Room Three, Kirk looked down at his small companion and grinned as tiny slanted brows furrowed. Spock glanced down once more at the miniature data-padd before him and the linguistics flashcard which had appeared.

"Lunch," the toddler declared, glancing shyly up through his bangs for approval.

Kirk's smile widened, and he felt himself melt a little unashamedly; it would take a far harder heart than his to successfully resist such a cute and openly curious kid. At barely two years old, Spock's piping half-Vulcan, half-Standard had already succeeded in wrapping every single crewman on board around his tiny little finger.

"Indeed," the captain praised warmly. "What do you like to have for lunch, Spock?"

"_Bar-kas'mah_," the toddler replied promptly. (1)

"Right, and like I said my Vulcan is colloquial at best," Kirk muttered, hastily pulling up the linguistics bank on his own personal padd. The closest Standard equivalent was…

"You are not having French toast for lunch, Spock," he said, laughing heartily at the affronted expression he received. Obviously, to a two-year-old Vulcan mind, it was logical to eat that which appealed most.

"F'renge toes?"

"French toast," he repeated, leaning with his arms around the little one to type the standard spelling onto the flashcard application. A picture flashed up onto the screen a moment later, and Spock nodded solemnly in approval, patiently tolerating the half-hug with a by-now familiar forbearance. "Maybe for breakfast tomorrow, but not lunch."

"_Po_?"

"Because I said so," he replied without thinking, only belatedly realizing he was turning into his own mother. Giving Spock a little squeeze, he then sat back and smiled reassuringly at the slightly scowling toddler. "And because it is not healthy for a growing _kan-bu_."

"_Nash-veh ri'kan-bu_!" Spock cried indignantly. (2)

Barely restraining his laughter, the captain managed to tone it down to a grin. He cleared his throat, aware that his communications chief was sitting in a nearby chair reading, and currently giggling into her book, having understood every word of their slow conversation. Uhura had been the one to suggest the flashcard method of sharing Vulcan and Terran Standard words, and so far it had been a huge hit with their resident baby First Officer.

"Standard, Spock. _Teraya-eingelsu_."

"I am…not – not – an in-fant!"

"No, you are not a baby, Spock," Kirk declared with appropriate solemnity. "And you are not just a child. You are…"

Large dark eyes blinked quizzically up at him, waiting patiently for his verdict.

He ran a hand through his hair, and drew frantically on every bit of obscure High Vulcan he knew.

"_Pi'ne ki'ne_?" he hazarded, vaguely registering Uhura's startled glance and then soft smile of approval. (3)

Spock's tiny eyebrow inched upward in obvious skepticism.

"Right, I probably just butchered about five ancient Vulcan doctrines," he muttered, face flushing in embarrassment. "Never mind. What's next on our list there, Spock?"

Spock studied his datapadd for a moment in silence, and then punched in a sequence to draw up another flashcard.

"Ensign. Next is Lieutenant," Kirk read out, seeing the pictures of Starfleet rank insignias. "And that's the braid for a Lieutenant-Commander."

Spock leaned over curiously at that. Tiny fingers reached out hesitantly to trace over the triple braid on the captain's gold sleeve.

"_Khart-lan_?"

"Captain," he agreed, smiling down at the child who was so intently studying his sleeve with the inborn curiosity of a true scientist.

"_Sha'khart-lan_," his tiny First Officer declared with finality. (4)

There was probably some regulation about the ship's captain wearing a sappy grin in the middle of a lower decks rec room, but at that moment he really couldn't be bothered to care much. "Am I now."

Dark eyes rolled ceiling-ward in a childish expression of exasperation. "_Veling_." Spock gave his arm a gentle pat, and promptly returned to clicking through his flashcards. (5)

Still smiling, Kirk glanced up as a figure slid into place beside them at the table, nodding a greeting to Uhura across Spock's bent head.

"Soooo, whatcha got there, kiddo?" McCoy inquired amiably.

"_Teraya-eingelsu_ _mesukh_," Spock replied without looking up.

"Federation Standard and Vulcan lessons – on both sides," the captain clarified ruefully. "Never thought I'd have to brush up on anything more intricate than _No thank you, I would prefer water_ in Vulcan, I have to say."

Spock paused, tiny fingers poised over the keypad. "Th'ank you?" he inquired, eyebrow raised in puzzlement.

"Ummm…_Nemaiyo_?" (6)

The toddler hummed in comprehension. "_Shaya tonat_," he corrected.

Kirk nodded in exasperation toward the little one. "What he said, Bones."

Spock's little head jerked up once more, eyes wide. "_Hinek-teraya_?" he asked incredulously.

Hazel eyes blinked slowly, and the captain finally shook his head after another moment of wracking his brain. "Yeah, you lost me there, Spock."

McCoy took one look at Uhura's silently quivering shoulders, and sighed with the tolerance of a man who has done his fair share of dealing with insane superiors for several years, thank you, and didn't sign up or get paid for daddy duty with either of them. "I believe he thinks you just called me a skeleton, Jim."

"Oh. Heh." He glanced down, and saw Spock regarding him suspiciously. "Um. How am I supposed to explain nicknames to a Vulcan child?"

"_Nash-veh ri'kan-bu!_" Spock all but bellowed, drawing the startled, slack-jawed attention of every crewman within fifteen meters as he slammed his data-padd down on the table with Vulcan-strong little hands.

McCoy began employing the better part of valor – retreat in the face of an enraged baby Vulcan. He silently thanked every deity in the quadrant that there were no flying soup bowls this time around, and made a mental note to have an enormous crate of chocolate sent to the Lady Amanda when they were next in the Vulcan sector.

"Never mind the nicknames, figure out in what mirror universe is a tantrum _logical_?"

* * *

(1) _Bar-kas_ is a general word for select spices such as cinnamon and nutmeg; _Pir mah_ is a Vulcan breakfast food meaning, literally, _strawberry toast_. Spock is a child of two food groups, obviously. :P

(2) Literally, "I am not a baby!"

(3) _Pi_- being the diminutive, _Ne ki'ne_ meaning shieldmate, or one who can be depended upon to have one's back in battle – literally, it is a colloquialization meaning _little shield-partner_.

(4) "My captain"

(5) Translated into Standard as _of course_.

(6) _Nemaiyo_ is much more informal; a simple statement of appreciation like the English "thanks, man." _Shaya tonat_ is the correct, more polite way of expressing gratitude.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: _Learning Diplomacy_  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, bb!Spock,  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 1328  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.  
**This Bit Summary:** Spock learns the human approach to blackmail diplomacy, and totally denies his love of furry animals.

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Communication  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three  
Learning Diplomacy

* * *

The upside to having a tiny Vulcan shadowing you everywhere, was that no one could really do anything but smile at you, because who can stay angry in the face of pointy-eared cuteness? The downside to this, however, was that anyone and everyone who was not hurrying to a destination simply had to stop and talk to them, which meant the trek from his quarters to Mess to Engineering (Spock had been promised a tour of the engine rooms by an enthusiastic Montgomery Scott) took four times as long as it should have.

"I do not comprehend the human female's fascination with me," was Spock's dismal comment after a yeoman walked away from them, cooing to a friend about how adorable their de-aged First Officer was.

Kirk made a mental note to make sure the crew understood that once the process was reversed, Spock was to be treated with all the respect his rank and status deserved. They'd managed to stop treating him like a child once he was no longer one, but there was something about seeing their stoic First in this condition that he suspected might have lasting consequences if he didn't nip that in the bud once Spock returned to his true age.

Now, however, he grinned down at the disconsolate little face upturned toward his own, and firmly resisted the parental urge to take the tiny hand that occasionally grasped at his pant leg for stabilization as crewmen rushed past.

"It's a human thing, Spock, just trust me on that," he replied, nodding in response to a crewman who did a double take and then hastily saluted them as he scooted past in the corridor. "There is something within human nature that reacts in this manner to small things; whether they be animal or human or otherwise. You know how much you like tribbles; extrapolate that reaction exponentially into an adult human's view of anything smaller or younger than we are accustomed to seeing."

Spock's blinked as the scientific process filtered through, and then gave a small but lofty sniff of disdain. "I do not like tribbles."

The captain carefully hid another smile. "Sure you don't."

"Vulcans do not _like_ anything, Captain-Jim," the child said solemnly, eyes wide with earnestness.

"I know for a fact, _Spock-kam_, that you _like_ my mom's butternut squash soup, because that was the first time I've ever seen you eat seconds_,_ much less _thirds_," Kirk replied, this time not bothering to hide his grin at the memory of a shore leave long ago. "Surely it is logical to have preferences? To not have them would detract from the principles which are the foundational concepts of IDIC, wouldn't it?"

Spock's dark eyes narrowed sharply. "Your logic is…skewed, sir."

The statement coming from a very tiny, very serious six-year-old nearly made him laugh, which would have totally obliterated his credibility to raise this unusual little being. He made certain to look properly offended rather than amused. "Specify."

The child eyebrow-frowned, looking slightly miffed. "I cannot," he declared reluctantly. "But I do not _like_ _things_, Captain-Jim." The petulance and lack of vocabulary only made the vehement denial more adorable, and Kirk looked down and gave a solemn nod.

"My apologies, of course, Spock."

"Apology accepted," the child replied immediately, the frown disappearing and melting into a look of such contentment that it made Kirk's heart clench.

How many times had this little Vulcan been accused of humanity, and never had an effort been made to assure him it was both acceptable and indeed natural to be so if he chose? The captain had seen more than once, how in the company of Vulcans Spock was even more Vulcan than full-blooded of that species; even full Vulcans permitted themselves certain indulgences which Spock shunned, no doubt out of desire to prove his own Vulcanity. How many times had Spock been made fun of for a humanistic character trait, only to then lock that portion of himself away as unacceptable? In his efforts to be pure Vulcan, he had alienated humans; and that alienation did nothing to increase his acceptance among his own people. It was the ultimate no-win situation, and the captain of the _Enterprise_ thanked every deity in the quadrant once again, that he had been so fortunate as to be gifted this remarkable being as his second-in-command, and that Kirk had somehow, by some kindness of Fate or Destiny, known how to break through that impenetrable wall around Spock's heart and soul.

He wondered with sad fondness, how much easier Spock's childhood might have been, had he been given one person who was willing to look past the protests and the cold vocabulary, to really see the struggling meld of humanity and Vulcanity crying out underneath.

"Captain-Jim?" A small tug at his pants-leg brought him back to himself, and he saw that they had entered the turbo-lift, that the doors had shut behind them.

Spock was too short to reach the command-handle, and was looking up at him with barely-concealed impatience.

He probably should have thought before acting, but then again he was used to having nephews; it was an instinct ingrained by this point.

"All right, up we go," he said cheerfully, and hefted the surprised child up under the arms so Spock could reach the handle.

Spock's eyes were wide with shock, but after an initial squirm of discontent he relaxed, grasped the control handle with both little hands and enunciated clearly, "Engineering Deck."

The lift started with a lurch, and the captain saw the tiny eyebrows lift in what he knew was an expression of satisfaction, the closest to a smile he was likely to get from this little Vulcan. However, once the lift began to slow, pinging in warning as they approached the Engineering deck, he set Spock back on the floor and then crouched in front of his former First Officer.

"I should have asked before picking you up, Spock. I apologize for invading your privacy," he said seriously. "I should know better than to do that to a touch-telepath, and I'm sorry."

Hands clasped behind his back, Spock looked down at his boots, and scuffed one absently on the polished durasteel. Then, "I have no objections to your physical contact, Captain-Jim," the child said softly, chancing a shy glance up through his thick bangs.

Sheesh, the kid could literally blow up the ship and be forgiven for it, with those eyes.

"Well, then. You won't mind if I do…this?" he asked with a grin, eyes gleaming in mischief as his fingers crept stealthily up in a quick tickle attack.

Spock nearly doubled over, hands immediately clutching at his fingers in surprise – and to Kirk's utter shock the child _giggled_. Just briefly, just for one second, but the sound was unmistakeable. As was the sudden horror which crossed the tiny face at Spock's realization of what he'd done.

The lift doors pinged behind them.

Spock looked highly distraught. "Captain, I –"

Kirk smiled, laying a finger gently against the quivering lips. Spock stilled immediately, eyes wide.

"I think we're entitled to break the rules once in a while, don't you?" the captain said in a loud whisper, with a meaningful look over his shoulder.

Spock's eyes went from huge to enormous. "Sir?"

"Wellllll," Kirk said in a dramatically pondering tone, "I won't tell anyone you let your half-human side out for a little bit…and you don't tell Bones I ate that piece of cake with my lunch. How does that strike you as a…_diplomatic negotiation_, Spock?"

The child drew himself up as tall as he could, which was hilariously not very much. "I believe such an agreement is most logical for both parties involved," he replied solemnly.

Kirk gravely nodded and then exited the turbolift, followed closely by a serene Vulcan six-year-old.

_That's my little ambassador_, he thought, with a wicked grin at how horrified Sarek would be to learn of his method of teaching diplomacy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: _ Lesson Five_  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) McCoy, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 2817  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.  
**This Bit Summary:** In which tiny!Spock saves the day and learns a lesson about fear. Oh, and I electrocute our poor Captain.

**A/N:** Yes, I know I skipped Lesson Four; remember I'm not necessarily writing these in order and will be skipping around in time as the muse strikes me. I wanted to write something Trek-related in honor of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy's birthdays this week, and this turned out actually not even having much Kirk in it directly...but oh well. Here it be.

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Communication  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three  
Learning Diplomacy  
Lesson Five

* * *

Only on this ship, McCoy reflected viciously, could a man come so close to death while they were doing nothing more than circling a proven-friendly planet for scientific research. And only on this ship, could that man be the apparently danger-prone captain of the _Enterprise_. Sometimes he thought they'd ticked off the wrong godling somewhere in the multiverse, to bring such a string of almost ridiculously severe catastrophes down on their heads as they seemed to encounter on a regular basis.

But that was pointless woolgathering, because right now he had far more important things to do. A not-freaking-out-because-that-is-illogical baby Vulcan to locate after he'd disappeared hours ago, an unconscious Jim Kirk to care for yet again after a crisis, and a commendation to write up for Matthew Turner, who had been repairing a console on the Bridge during the incident and had been the only crewman not busy at a station – thereby making him the only one who could scramble over and begin CPR on their unbreathing captain.

McCoy shivered reflexively, remembering the panicked call that had been shot over the communications channels by Lieutenant Uhura earlier in the day. Almost frenetic with haste, and accompanied by Scotty's chime-in from Engineering, a profuse apology about the overloading circuits, the summons had been duly horrifying, and he'd expected the worst when he arrived five minutes ahead of his trauma team to find the Bridge in chaos, hazy with the tang of electrical smoke and littered with sparking debris.

Scotty said something about relays fusing together, producing an overload build-up in critical motherboards on the Bridge, something that their safety protocols should have detected and alerted the crew to but somehow didn't. McCoy had the feeling that heads were still rolling in Engineering, six hours later, and well-deservedly too. Without Spock's intense scrutiny of all shipboard systems, efficiency had noticeably decreased; still well above 'Fleet expectations, but none realized just how much work the First really did until he was no longer his proper age.

Whatever the reason, apparently the control panel in the Bridge's command chair had overloaded at the same time three of the consoles did; and in the chaos following the explosion of the Environmental Control station and the helm, no one had noticed right away that the captain was actually being silently electrocuted in his own precious chair, voltage freezing his hand to the overloading controls.

Uhura told McCoy later, teary-eyed, that it was a very frightened but stoic Vulcan child who had had the presence of mind to break a piece of the plasticene dividing rail off, using the non-conductive material to knock Kirk from the central seat and thereby breaking the current in time to save his life. The damage had unfortunately been done, however, and by the time McCoy arrived on the Bridge, Turner had already broken two of Kirk's ribs performing CPR on his captain. The young ensign immediately relinquished his burden to McCoy, who had a portable ventilation unit in place with practiced ease, and within moments Kirk was, thankfully, breathing again, and judging from the cursory medical scan had not suffered any severe heart damage.

The medical team arrived to perform triage on the other injured crewmen, though none were in as severe condition as their captain, and it wasn't until hours later, after the proverbial dust had settled, that it occurred to McCoy that no one had really seen Spock for that amount of time.

Surprisingly enough, the kid wasn't in Jim's room, as he assumed would be the case, and he slumped into his desk chair with a groan, partly from frustration and partly from exhaustion. He didn't have time for this.

"Computer, location of Commander Spock, First Officer, currently on temporary medical relief from duty."

_"Working."_

"You better be," he muttered, already typing up the reports for this incident, the severity of which meant extra headaches all 'round when Command heard about the safety protocol failure. He made a mental note to steer clear of Engineering for a very long time after this.

_"Commander Spock is currently in Sickbay."_

He paused in the report, glaring incredulously at the screen. "Sickbay?"

_"Correct. Commander Spock is currently in Sickbay."_

"Well specify, you bucket of bolts!"

_"Unable to pinpoint location due to interference from medical scanners."_

"Oh, for pity's sake!"

Durasteel screeched as his chair flew backward. "Spock, where are you?" he hollered, striding through the ward with little regard for the odd looks he received from his gamma shift nursing staff. Jim was on the good drugs now and there were no other patients who'd remained overnight, so if he wanted to yell in his own Sickbay he was darn well gonna yell, thanks very much. "SPOCK!"

"Doctor," Christine chided him gently, as she passed with an intravenous unit of nutrients for the captain. "If he is here, do you think he's going to come running with you hollering like that?"

"Have you seen the kid?" he asked, ignoring the gentle reproach.

"Not since he followed the medical team back from the Bridge, Doctor." She glanced around the ward, lips twisting into a worried frown. "He looked rather shaken up…maybe he hid in one of the empty cubicles and fell asleep or something?"

McCoy ran a hand over weary features. "Hid somewhere? A _Vulcan_ kid?"

"Doctor McCoy," his Head Nurse admonished severely, "Vulcan or human or otherwise, when you strip away the conditioning that child right now is nothing more than a very scared little boy."

She was right; Spock was all but attached at the hip to Jim on a good day, and in this condition –

He waved Chapel onward and began methodically searching the recovery cubicles for any sign of a hiding little Vulcan. And, sure enough, in the nursery cubicle that still hadn't been fully reverted after Jim's little stunt as baby-of-the-month, he found the missing seven-year-old sitting on the floor, wedged tightly into the alcove made by two walls and a supply cabinet.

Moving softly as a Vulcan himself, he crouched down, and saw the dark eyes slowly rise from drawn-up knees to meet his expression.

And at the sight of the barely-shielded anguish in them, his heart broke just a little more, and all irritation melted on the instant.

"Hey, kiddo, we've been lookin' all over for you," he said gently.

"I have been here," Spock responded, barely a thin whisper.

"So I see." McCoy glanced over his shoulder, and then looked back at the hiding child. "You wanna come out now, then?"

"No." One word, so soft he barely heard the response, and then the dark head drooped again as Spock buried his face in his arms, draped over his knees.

"Figures," he muttered, sliding with a rather graceless thunk to a sitting position beside the child. Not quite blocking his avenue of escape, but enough that Spock would have to scramble over his legs to get away.

But judging from the way the kid was shaking, that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. Young Jim would have been a fight-or-flight risk, no question; this kid, though…this pretty much baby half-Vulcan was a puzzle, one he'd no idea how to solve. That was Jim's area of expertise, but Jim was still unconscious and under observation for the next twelve hours.

"You know Captain Kirk is gonna be just fine, don't you?" he asked first off, and saw a faint nod. "And you know, you probably saved his life up there, kid." Just thinking of the ramifications of continued electrocution, his medical mind bringing them up with cheerful ruthlessness, turned his stomach, and he rubbed a hand over his eyes and mouth. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"It was the logical action to take," Spock murmured, though one dark eye did peek out at him.

Progress, at least. "Yeah, but there wasn't anybody else to take it – and even then, probably most of 'em wouldn't have thought about conductivity. That's pretty brilliant, even for a little Vulcan. Turner may have restarted his lungs, but if you'd waited any longer to disconnect him no amount of medical expertise would've brought him back." The words were sincere, and so was his smile, because honestly the kid looked like he'd just failed a mission, not saved Jim's life.

Spock's ear-tips flushed a light green. "I am…pleased, _sha'hassu_."

Now it was his turn to blush, and he hoped Spock was too young to really understand why.

Or how weird it was.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "So why're you hidin' in here then, hm? You can go see the captain if you want, I'm not stopping you."

"I…" the child ground to a halt, almost painfully, and McCoy saw with some concern that the small hands were clenched and trembling. "I…am not in control," was the ashamed admission, and his heart broke just a little more for the poor kid, caught between two natures – and therefore two perfectly natural reactions.

"What, because you…were afraid?" he asked slowly, gently, and hoping his tone didn't convey any sort of judgment. God knew that's all the kid needed now, somebody crushing that spark of humanity that Jim somehow knew instinctively how to nourish but still keep the kid on the Vulcan straight-and-narrow.

Spock's little head jerked up, dislodging a bit of his bangs, and his eyes widened. "Is it that obvious, Doctor McCoy?" he asked, in evident distress.

McCoy smiled, and reached over to give the tiny hands a gentle pat. "No, it's not," he said, truthfully. "But it's the natural reaction to a situation like the one you were put in, and Jim always did say I was a darn good shrink, so it's a decent guess."

"I do not comprehend the shrinking reference…"

"Kid, look." He sighed, and settled himself in a mirroring position to the disconsolate child. "Okay, so you're ashamed of the fact that you were scared, because to feel fear is to have an emotion; something which is forbidden for a Vulcan. Have I got that right?"

"…In essence, Doctor." Spock's head bowed in shame, hands still clenched tightly before him.

"Well, then, let me introduce you to this thing we call _erroneous misconceptions_, Spock." A skeptical eyebrow turned his direction, and he held up a remonstrating hand. "Let me finish before you write me off as an illogical human, okay?"

Spock cocked his head, looking interested for the first time. McCoy fumbled in the pocket of his scrubs for a moment, finally emerging with the only tool he had on him – a pocket laser scalpel.

He held up the shining instrument. "Okay, you know what this is?"

"A laser scalpel, I presume."

"Seriously, kids using worse like _presume_…" he muttered, and ran a hand over his hair. "Yes, it is," he continued, in a natural tone of voice. "Used for minor surgery and a host of other things requiring a steady hand and a very thin cutting beam. Now, if I were to slash this across my arm, say, what would be the result?"

"You would feel pain," was the dry reply. "I believe you would also speak in what the captain calls 'colorful metaphors'."

He stifled a snort of laughter. "Medical terms, Spock. Specify scientifically what occurs when someone feels pain."

Spock's legs lowered slowly, until he was sitting in a normal position in the corner, and he began to tick off points on thin fingers. "Nerve receptors fire, indicating to the brain that trauma has occurred in that area of the body."

"And it hurts, because of that?"

"That is correct," Spock replied warily, expecting a trap.

"Is there a way to prevent pain from happening when you get hurt?"

"Not to my admittedly limited medical knowledge," was the slow reply. "There are meditation methods on Vulcan which permit one to manage pain, but not to prevent its occurrence in the first place."

McCoy made sure the safety was on and tossed the scalpel onto the floor nearby. "So the actual concept of pain is, what – an involuntary response?"

"It would seem so."

"Good." He scooted forward just a fraction, and was pleased when the child did not back away. "Now I want you to extrapolate from that conclusion, Spock. You are under the impression that fear is an emotion, aren't you?"

"Fear is an emotion, for it is rooted in feeling," Spock recited almost mechanically, dully.

"That's a load of…baloney, Spock," he amended sheepishly, in favor of the more 'colorful metaphor' he had originally intended. Spock's eyes widened in utter surprise. "Fear is not an emotion, kid," he added softly. "Fear is a response to a stimulus – just like pain is a response to a stimulus. You can't control being scared any more than you can control breathing in when you need oxygen, or jerking your hand back when you touch something that can burn you. It's an autonomic response in the brain; and something you can't prevent yourself from doing – or feeling – is a reflexive action, not an emotion."

Spock was openly staring at him now, lips parted slightly in shock.

"Spock…look, kiddo, you're not any less of a Vulcan because you were scared up there on the Bridge, or scared sitting here in my Sickbay listening to us try to correct Jim's arrhythmia," McCoy said quietly. "That makes you a sentient being, Spock; not an emotional human. It's an ingrained instinct in all intelligent life forms to feel fear. That's a scientific fact they teach in every psych class."

"But I am not in control," Spock protested, though much more weakly than before.

"And that's where you're in danger of slipping into the realm of those emotions you're tryin' so hard not to have, kid. If you let fear control you, then you've succumbed to human emotion. Not that that's a bad thing, y'know," he added, with a slight scowl, "but for you…yeah, I get it, Spock. But the longer you hide in here, avoiding dealing with that initial reflex of being scared…that's the real danger for you, not being afraid in the first place."

Dark eyes regarded him solemnly, as if searching his face for Truth. He could only hope he was not found wanting, and heaven help him if it ever got out that he was giving a Vulcan child advice on how to not be human. But his sincerity must have shone through, because Spock slowly uncurled from his position of safety and rose to his feet, self-consciously tugging at his tunic in an ingrained instinct for neatness.

McCoy regained his feet with much more effort, and a lot more self-consciousness. "You okay?" he asked, once they were both vertical again.

"I am…" Spock paused, blinking in thought, and McCoy braced himself for the aloof 'functional' that inevitably followed in the adult version of this conversation. "I _am_, Doctor. O-kay," the child specified, as if McCoy was too stupid to figure that out for himself.

He gave the kid a tired grin, because this conversation was getting progressively weirder and at this point who cared anymore, and followed as they walked toward the cubicle doorway. But before they exited into the world beyond, he stopped, and paused the child with a strong hand.

"Doctor?"

"Spock, I just want you to remember somethin', ok?" he crouched down, hands on the small shoulders, and looked directly into the child's dark eyes. "I know you're a Vulcan, and I know you're growing up way too fast and trying your hardest to be the best Vulcan anyone's ever seen. But just remember," he said, and gave the thin shoulders a squeeze, "that there are some things that are worth being afraid to lose. Emotion or not, they're _worth it_. D'you understand that?"

Spock regarded him solemnly, eyes wide. "Indeed, Doctor," he agreed, with a slow nod. "I do…understand."

"Well thank heaven for that," he muttered with a sarcastic hands-up of mock triumph. As they passed, he unceremoniously shoved the kid into Jim's recovery cubicle, hearing a sleepy greeting from their doped-up captain before beelining for his office. "Glad that bucket of awkward is over…I'm a doctor, not a crisis counselor."

He flipped on the vid-monitor of Jim's cubicle, just to make sure their pint-sized First Officer wasn't having a breakdown or something after their lengthy, awkward, and painful heart-to-heart, and nearly choked on his brandy when he saw that apparently, it only took a doped-up _Jim Kirk_ about fifteen _seconds_ to convince the little _brat_ that hugging was not an emotional action at all, no sir, not by any means, totally logical under the circumstances, etc., etc.

He would've been a lot more irritated about it, if he hadn't been able to freeze-frame the video and download it to a very safe place on his private hard drive.

Sometime, he would teach their little Vulcan about the involuntary human stimulus of _cuteness_, and wouldn't that vengeance be sweet…


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: _Lesson Four_ (1/2)  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, McCoy, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 2693  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**This Bit Summary:** In which bb!Spock learns a lesson about trust, and his primary caretakers learn their lessons as well. Written in response to a prompt by **eavis**, and incidentally my first foray back into writing in over two months. Let's hope it's not as awful as I think it is.

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Communication  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three  
Trust (Lesson Four) (1/2) (2/2)  
Learning Diplomacy  
Lesson Five

* * *

McCoy would love to be able to say, that he'd seen it coming. That they'd caught the signs early, that his medical expertise had perceived the growing danger before it became too drastic a problem to ignore. He'd like to be able to tell the captain, who was no less freaked out about the incident than his medical staff, that they had been prepared for this eventuality, and had a plan in place accordingly. He'd love to be able to say that it was perfectly normal for a kid, and even to be anticipated given the stressful circumstances.

Unfortunately, he could not, truthfully, say any of these things.

And Captain James T. Kirk was _not_ happy with him. No, actually, that was a colossal understatement.

Jim was _furious_.

There was very little that could make their captain lose all pretense of command control, only a few things which might trigger a metaphorical explosion in front of his subordinates; but unfortunately for them all one of those few things was their (currently fun-sized) Chief Science Officer and said Science Officer's precious dignity.

The room had emptied within moments after the incident began, and now even McCoy knew to quail before the unleashed fury that was currently raking Officers' Mess.

And, if he were honest with himself, Jim's anger was more than justified. He or one of his medical staff should have seen it coming, or at the least most certainly should have realized there was a problem long before it came to a head like this.

They had been becalmed in orbit for over a week now, during which their tiny resident Vulcan had carefully wormed his way into the hearts of everyone aboard, almost surpassing the affection the crew had had for a starry-eyed little Captain Sunshine. Spock had acclimated to his new life and new circumstances with the same calm serenity and curiosity which characterized his adult self as a scientist and a Vulcan; and they had come to expect the little guy to accept everything around him with such equanimity as he had shown in the nine days he'd been aboard. By this time, Spock was around four years of age; old enough to converse fluently in both Terran Standard and in Vulcan, but still very small for his age, and as inquisitive as any fully human preschooler would be.

McCoy had gratefully turned the majority of babysitting duty over to their captain by this point, who for many reasons was the most logical choice for raising a baby Vulcan. For one thing, there was very little for the captain of the ship to do, when they were merely orbiting a peaceful planet on a research mission. For another, it was obvious to even the most clueless crewman that their tiny Vulcan worshipped the ground Kirk walked on, at any age. And thirdly, Kirk did have the most experience, and had done the most research, into Vulcan culture, and he had an innate, almost instinctual understanding of said culture.

So, if he was pointing fingers, McCoy rather thought it was Kirk who should have seen the indications, though in the captain's defense the sleeping hours were designated to him and his medical staff, in order to keep a close eye upon the child's Vulcan physiology in the event of an overnight age-change. Spock would leave his nursery cubicle in Sickbay every morning with Jim or another crewman, and would rarely return before evening mess; after which he would spend a bit of time with someone and then retire to Sickbay once more for his designated sleep schedule.

But regardless, someone – one of them, him or the captain, at least – should have seen it, should have realized Spock wasn't sleeping, at least not very well. Why he hadn't checked the bio-monitors to check the child's sleeping habits was an oversight he was not proud of; but in his defense, Spock had never required much sleep, no more than a few hours a night, and it was the last thing on McCoy's mind when trying to care for a baby Vulcan among his other duties.

Either way, one of them should have raised an alarm about Spock before the poor kid thoroughly embarrassed himself by bursting into real, honest-to-god _tears_ in the middle of evening mess, right in front of a roomful of shocked, and more than a little freaked out, senior officers.

Nobody knew what had set it off, and at that point no one bothered to find out, because the room was emptying of gawkers under Scotty's hastily-snapped orders. McCoy had been lounging near the door, chatting with one of his gamma-shift nurses that he hadn't seen in a few days, when the abrupt, tearful wail of a miserable child suddenly shattered the pleasant white noise of crewmen finishing their meals. In a matter of seconds he had scooted around the perimeter of the room to where the senior command crew were accustomed to eating every evening, and skidded to a halt in front of the table shared with the alpha shift.

Ensign Chekov, who had been Spock's designated feeder for tonight, was hastily scooting back from the child in question, hands buried helplessly in his hair and looking absolutely shocked speechless – and no wonder, because who in the universe had ever even seen a Vulcan cry before, much less one that they knew so well? Child or not, McCoy doubted Vulcan infants even cried at all, because theirs certainly had not, not once during his baby days.

But now, Spock was curled up in a miserable little ball on the bench seat, head buried in his arms and sobbing helplessly just like any other kid his age might have been on Earth. All they could see was a silky mop of mussed hair, and two tiny quivering shoulders clad in miniature Science blues.

"Where's the captain?" he asked softly, motioning for Chekov to scoot out of the way.

"He vas getting a coffee refill, sir! Doctor I do not know vhat happened, he was very quiet during the meal but nothing was wrong that I know! But just suddenly –"

"It's all right, Ensign. You just go 'long with Sulu and let us handle it, okay? I promise I'll take good care of him."

Scotty was still ushering curious crewmen out of the room, and Sulu and Uhura had immediately taken one look at the situation and known their presence would not be welcomed. They had given him a look of sympathy and retreated to a nearby table, remaining quiet but not abandoning the child in the event their help might be needed.

Either that, McCoy mused ruefully, or they'd seen the look on the captain's face as he forced his way back through the room, coffee long since abandoned on a table.

"I was gone for _fifteen seconds_." The sentence was fairly snarled in his ear as the captain flew around an errant chair, knocking it to the side in his haste. "What. Did. They. _Do_ to him? Spock? Hey buddy, can you hear me?" The child flinched under the captain's hand, though the tearful wails quieted slightly into just painful, heart-wrenching sobbing.

"No one did anything, Jim," McCoy muttered, his pocket medical scanner already finishing its scan, whirring eagerly over the huddled figure. "There's nothing wrong with him that I can tell, no viruses or elevated temperatures or anything else abnormal for a Vulcan! Granted, this pocket scanner's not a full medical exam but there's nothing medically wrong with him that I can see!"

Kirk ignored him, only crouched and squeezed without hesitation between the bench and the table, half-turning the child's huddled form toward him. "Spock. Talk to me," he said softly, the words more gentle than the firm hands he kept on the child's tiny shoulders to prevent his escaping.

A tear-streaked face made a brief appearance as the child shook his head, tugging relentlessly against the grip.

"Spock?"

"_Ti'amah_!" (1) The sobbed word was followed by a fresh volley of tears, and McCoy resisted the urge to throw the medical scanner against the wall, helpless even more so than the captain was to respond to whatever was triggering this by all accounts dangerously human reaction to something. A few meters away, he saw Scotty return to their shocked little group, the engineer's honest face drawn with concern.

But Kirk shook his head in response, eyes softening at the plea. "I will not," he said gently. "Talk to me, _Spock-kam_. Use your words, little one. What is causing this?"

"_Nash-veh ri'fai-tor_," the child sobbed helplessly, burying his face anew in his hands.

Kirk's sandy brows knitted in increasing concern.

"What's that mean?" McCoy whispered, hoping his voice wouldn't upset the child even more.

"He doesn't know, Bones. He's as shocked as we are, I think. Give me a minute, here." The captain turned back and gently pried the child's tiny hands from his face.

"_Ti'amah_!"

"I will not," was the reply, gentle but firm. Kirk carefully released one of the child's wrists, whereupon the hand promptly began rubbing at the tear-filled eyes. He reached up with his free hand and carefully tilted the child's head up with one gentle finger, whereupon Spock stared at him in silent misery, tears still running down his face. "Talk to me, Spock. Are you in pain? Is this a reaction to something someone has done?"

"I do not know," the child half-sobbed, scrubbing almost angrily at the tears which continued to fall. "I do not _know_!"

Kirk shot his Chief Medical Officer a quick warning glance, and then turned back to his miserable little Vulcan. Moving the tiny hand he still held up toward his face, he made certain they had eye contact before speaking. "Spock. _Nahp, hif-bi tu throks_," he enunciated clearly, eyes glinting with determination. (2)

McCoy started, banging his knee loudly on the edge of the bench in his shocked haste. "Hold it, Jim!"

The captain's free hand made a decisive slicing motion, effectively warning him to silence his protests. Hazel eyes never left the child's tear-filled ones, however, and a moment later both tiny hands latched onto Kirk's face with a desperation that was almost pitiful to any onlooker.

McCoy, who knew the dangers of a poorly-performed mind meld (besides the fact that even a well-controlled one was still an event he hoped never to repeat), was fairly terrified out of his mind; who knew what type of control a _toddler_ could have over such a thing, and how much emotional transference was going to happen regardless! He raised his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in helplessness, and met the eyes of their shocked alpha shift crew with a painful shrug.

"Y'all'd better leave us to it," he said, motioning toward the door. "Captain wouldn't want you watching."

"Aye." Scott's face was pinched with worry, as he glanced back and forth between the two now-silent figures huddled together at the table. "Take care of the lads, Doctor."

The other three murmured similar sentiments before following their Chief Engineer out, and McCoy breathed a sigh of relief when the door had slid shut and it was finally the three of them left alone to deal with the fallout, as it usually was. He ran his pocket scanner once more over Spock, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and then moved it over Kirk, pausing over the man's closed eyes and silent, blank face.

Nothing. The captain's blood pressure was elevated, but then whose wouldn't be, with a bawling Vulcan child freaking out a few meters away. Strangely enough now, though, Spock's crying had petered out into an occasional hitching sob, or the odd silent tear which escaped his clenched eyelids.

It felt like hours, but in reality was probably only a minute or two, before a twitch of discomfort alerted him to the fact that Jim was either coming out of the meld or else was in trouble within it. A moment later the captain's features twisted, teeth worrying unconsciously at his lower lip and brows clenched as if in pain. He was just debating whether it would work to sedate the child and hope the backlash didn't destroy both their minds, when Kirk's eyes suddenly flew open and he rocked backwards, banging his head soundly on the durasteel table. A pained groan was followed shortly by a few shuddering breaths, and shaking hands dashed suspiciously over his eyes as he fought to regain his surroundings.

"Jim," he said quietly, crouched in front of them. Kirk nodded, almost absently, hand upraised to indicate he was fine, and took a shuddering breath just as Spock finally cracked open his eyes with a faint sound of misery.

Spock's lip trembled all over again, and McCoy scrambled back with a squawk of surprise as Kirk surged to his feet, taking the child with him. A tiny dark head slumped down to his shoulder, and he shifted to more firmly hold the little one close.

"Jim?"

Kirk's eyes flashed, though his voice remained low-pitched due to the quivering little body in his arms. "Someone should have noticed by now that he hasn't been sleeping, Bones. This is inexcusable neglect."

"What? Not sleeping?" His jaw dropped in total shock, because that was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "He's a Vulcan – they only sleep about three hours a night and still remain functional, and even with Vulcan children, it's not uncommon for them to only get six or seven! That I _did_ check when he first turned himself into this, thank you very much!"

"He's been having nightmares an hour into his sleep cycle for the past few days, and he's afraid to go back to sleep afterwards," Kirk broke in abruptly, anger still burning in his eyes. "He's been getting nowhere near that, and none of us saw it. Not you, not me, none of us – and _someone_ should have seen the indications of sleep deprivation and stress before his body and his mental controls just shut down on him tonight!"

On his shoulder, the half-conscious child twitched at the rise in tone, and Kirk immediately shushed him, running a hand soothingly over the tensed back. "Sorry, Spock," he murmured, gently swaying back and forth. "It's okay, I promise."

McCoy dragged a shaking hand slowly over his face. "This is my fault, Jim…I didn't check his sleep cycle records after the first three nights. He seemed fine, and never told me there was a problem…why I _expected_ him to is beyond me…"

Kirk sighed, looking inestimably weary, and shook his head. "We can hash this out tomorrow, Doctor. Both of us are to blame. But right now, we have a baby Vulcan who's scared to go to sleep and more scared that we're going to be disappointed in him for it."

Spock murmured something that sounded suspiciously cranky into Kirk's shoulder, and he laughed softly. "My apologies, Spock; you are not a baby. You are a very brave little _ne ki'ne_ who simply needs his sleep." (3)

"You going to take him to your cabin?" McCoy asked sadly, reaching hesitantly up to stroke the child's mussed hair. "Don't think Sickbay is the best place for him, if all this has happened right under my nose. How 'bout it, kiddo?" he asked, when one dark eye finally peeked out at him. "Want to go spend the night with Captain Jim instead of mean old me?"

The one eyebrow he could see seemed to scowl at him. "_On'hafau_," Spock declared, the words muffled into the captain's shoulder.

"Do what now?"

"_On'hafau_!"

"Right, headin' off another Vulcan tantrum, that's me – what is he saying?" he hissed, scowling at Kirk's amusement.

"_Both stay_ is the literal interpretation," the captain explained, patting the child on the back. "I don't think he blames either one of us, Bones."

Spock yawned. "_Riolozhikaik_," he murmured drowsily, unconsciously snuggling closer.

McCoy's eyes fairly bugged out of his head. "The heck kind of word is that for a four-year-old?!"

Kirk hid his smile in the child's hair. "He just called us _illogical_, Bones."

"Wonderful. And so it begins…"

* * *

Unexplained Vulcan:

(1) _Ti'amah_ means _let me go_

(2) _Nahp, hif-bi tu throks _is, literally, "Give me your thoughts," or the traditional first phrase to begin a mind meld.

(3) Seen in a previous chapter, _ne ki'ne_ means shield-partner, or brother in arms


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: _Lesson Four_ (2/2)  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, McCoy, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 2533  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**This Bit Summary:** In which bb!Spock learns a lesson about logic and humanity, and in which McCoy has a moment in the spotlight for one-upping the captain, much to Jim's annoyance.

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Communication  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three  
Trust (Lesson Four) (1/2) (2/2)  
Learning Diplomacy  
Lesson Five

* * *

Spock was so quiet that, by the time they reached Deck Five and the captain's quarters, McCoy was sure the kid had basically cried himself to sleep like any normal toddler would.

Unfortunately, their tiny First Officer was _not_ any normal toddler, Vulcan or human or otherwise.

When trying to gently pry Spock off of the captain, they heard a barely audible whimper of protest, and Kirk hesitated, before cautiously trying once more to remove the stubborn child. Tiny but Vulcan-strong fingers clenched in the fabric of his uniform tunic – and, true to form, the shirt promptly tore without further protest.

McCoy grinned at the totally flabbergasted look that crossed Spock's little face, as he then stared down in wide-eyed consternation at the damage. The captain only chuckled softly and plopped down on his bunk like a child himself, scooting back against the pillows he hastily tossed against the low headboard. Spock's eyes widened as he was bounced unceremoniously along with, though he still made no move to release his grip, and finally they were settled to Kirk's apparent satisfaction.

"All right then, kiddo," Kirk began firmly, swiftly turning his tiny protégé until Spock was reluctantly facing him, sitting Indian-style on his lap, "you and I? We are going to have a long talk, and you are going to be perfectly truthful with me in what I ask of you. Am I understood, Spock?"

The tiny head drooped as the child fidgeted, fingers clasping and unclasping in his lap. "Must I?" he inquired dismally.

"You must," was the firm, but kind response. "Dr. McCoy and I cannot help you if you give us no facts to work with. Is that not logical?"

"It is logical, if I were in _need_ of assistance," Spock answered, tiny eyebrows scowling defiantly.

McCoy hid a laugh in his sleeve as he stood, intent upon seeing if he could coax something sleep-inducing and not involving complex sugars out of Kirk's beverage replicator. All they needed was an half-emotional little sugar-buzz right now.

The captain, however, was less amused. "There is no shame in admitting inadequacy due to no fault of your own, Spock," he admonished sternly. "There is, however, no honor in refusing help when it is offered without blame. I permitted you to use the _kash-kau_, due to your distress tonight. You do understand this cannot be a regular occurrence?"

McCoy briefly wondered if the kid was really able to understand such an advanced vocabulary, but as Kirk had seemed to advance it with the child's aging so far he appeared to know precisely how far to push Spock's child boundaries and how far to push the innate Vulcan boundaries. It was just one reason why Jim and Spock had always had some weird, almost creepily special rapport between them, without having to share headspace. He finally found a preset on the replicator for Vulcan spice tea, and remembering that Spock usually drank it before meditating, decided it probably didn't have a high caffeine content, at least not high enough to trouble a Vulcan. He programmed two cups of the stuff and waited.

Behind him, Jim was giving the poor kid a rough way to go, but apparently that was what the child needed; Lord knew they'd never get anything out of him by playing the nice, emotional heart-to-heart card.

"_Ni'droi'ik nar-tor_," Spock whispered, scrubbing a clenched fist over his eyes.

"You have done nothing which requires forgiveness," was the kind reply. Kirk's eyes softened as the child still refused to look up at him. "I only ask that you trust me enough to use your words, _pi'ne ki'ne_. I am not Vulcan; I will not condemn you for a portion of your heritage over which you have not yet mastered control."

Spock glanced up, eyes half-hidden behind his ruffled bangs. "You are _not_ Vulcan," he repeated slowly, suddenly puzzled. "How then, do you know of the _kash-kau_? And to permit such a liberty, you an outworlder –"

"Whoa there, slow down, Spock." Kirk sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bones, scan him, I think we probably just skipped a year at least, because Vulcan children aren't taught the ramifications of a mind-meld until age five or so." He turned back to the puzzled child before him, and consciously relaxed his features, knowing Spock would pick up on his tension. "Spock, we will discuss this matter later," he said firmly. "Right now, I would discuss the events of tonight with you."

"Here, kid." McCoy handed the steaming mug to the child, pleased to see the look of contentment on Spock's face after he at first dubiously looked down into the beverage. "You too, Captain sir," he warned, after Kirk had waved away his own drink. "You just got slammed with the emotional mind and tentative control of a half-human four-year-old, so don't tell me you don't have a grandmother of all headaches."

Kirk glared at him but accepted the drink, well accustomed to the soothing effects of the piquant blend of spices. The whirr of the medical scanner was the only sound for the next few moments, followed by McCoy's sigh. "You're right, he's five years, two months now. A six-month jump."

"I do not understand," Spock piped up, looking slightly less miserable after having nearly drained his thermal mug.

"That is a subject for another day, kiddo. You don't want me to bore you with the medical details, trust me."

Spock scrutinized him for a moment with total seriousness, and then gave him a curt nod, apparently accepting his explanation with less than his usual skepticism. McCoy breathed a silent sigh of relief, and put the scanner away.

"Now, about these nightmares," he began cautiously. "Spock, I wish you had come and gotten me or Christine – we have stuff that we could have given you to help you sleep. Non-addictive and perfectly safe for children," he added, for Kirk's benefit. "Not recommended for long-term use, but at least you would've been able to sleep through a night, not go four nights with basically nothin' at all, kid."

"Vulcans are able to remain functional without the necessity of a sleep cycle," was the quiet response.

"Adult Vulcans, yes," Kirk interjected calmly. "Youngling Vulcans? That's a negative, Spock. And you must remember, however much it may cause you frustration – you are not pure Vulcan. You are half human, and that half-human part of your physiology may manifest itself it certain non-Vulcan events – such as having nightmares."

Spock's eyes widened slightly.

"Yes, I am aware that Vulcans do not dream," the captain said with a smile, as he reached behind him to place their empty mugs on the shelf behind his bed. "Is that why you refused to seek help – because you are aware that Vulcans do not have dreams, either pleasant or unpleasant?"

He received an ashamed nod.

"You do understand there's nothing to be ashamed of in being half-human, don't you?" McCoy interjected, patting the child's quivering shoulder briefly. "Just because it's a pain in the neck to you most of the time, doesn't mean you can just ignore it when it manifests itself, y'know."

"I am aware," the child returned, still staring at his hands. "As my outburst in the Mess tonight demonstrated…"

"Your _outburst_, as you call it, was a textbook medical response to long-term sleep deprivation, kid," McCoy retorted. "Any human child would've been bawling his eyes out ten minutes after waking up the first night, and I've seen full-grown adult men in the middle of a space battle do the same thing if they go without sleep for more than forty-eight hours. It happens, kid. Doesn't mean you're a second-class Vulcan – heck, you lasted longer than any human adult I know, except maybe Captain Invincible himself here." He ignored Kirk's eyeroll in favor of meeting Spock's surprised look square-on. "That was just the body's response to sleep deprivation, kid, not a breakthrough of your human side. Totally natural, and totally to be expected."

"In other words, quite logical." Kirk smiled, as the magic word brightened the child's eyes. "Does this relieve your mind regarding the incident?"

"It does," the child replied solemnly.

"And need I remind you that it is illogical for you to suffer alone, when there are those willing to offer you help getting back to sleep after a nightmare?"

"I do not require assistance," Spock muttered, with the first sign of rebelliousness they'd seen from him all night.

Kirk carefully hid a grin. "Perhaps not – but it hurts me, and Dr. McCoy, to see you in pain or discomfort, _Spock-kam_. Is it logical, to cause us such pain?"

"It is not," Spock replied instantly, eyes worried.

"Then therefore, by your own logic, you will come to one of us should you have another such bad dream." The statement was more a command than a request, and the Starfleet officer hidden deep inside obviously responded to it, for the child straightened up out of pure reflex. "Is that understood?"

Spock's dark eyes looked huge in his small face, as he bobbed his head once earnestly. "Indeed."

_So dang cute, it's disgusting_, McCoy thought ruefully, as Kirk fairly melted into a captain-sized puddle.

"Well, now that that's settled!" Kirk hefted his tiny subordinate off to the side (ignoring the squeak of surprise from a shocked baby Vulcan), swept back the blanket and sheet with one arm and promptly buried the child with them once he was placed on his back in the bed.

"Bones! Bones, I can't find Spock! Where did he _go_?!"

McCoy rolled his eyes, but stared at the moving bundle under the covers when a muffled giggle interrupted the captain's exaggeratedly dramatic search for Spock.

"Did he just –"

"Don't you dare," Kirk warned, eyes blazing.

"I wasn't going to!"

"See that you don't. Aha!" Fingers pounced on the squirming lump under the blankets. "Gotcha!"

Spock's head popped out of the blankets, hair flying in all directions from static electricity and a tiny almost-smile curving his lips. "You are a most illogical human," he declared, with all the decisiveness of childhood.

Kirk grinned as an enormous yawn followed the words. "And you, Science Officer mine, are a very sleepy little Vulcan."

He tugged the tangled blanket and sheet, smoothing them out with one hand while gently placing the other on the child's head. "Now, Spock. I want you to close your eyes, and think of something. An object, or a place – even a person, if you choose. Something which makes you feel safe, or content."

One dark eye squinted open at him, and he tapped the child's nose reprovingly. Spock hastily closed it again. "Think of that, Spock," he continued, voice softening, deepening hypnotically, "and picture that within your mind as the foundation of a wall you intend to build, to keep away the things which might disturb your rest tonight. It must be a _strong_ wall, so make it something which to you, is the strongest influence you know."

The child's furrowed brow relaxed slightly. Kirk smiled, and continued. "Once you have laid that foundation, you must build upon it. When you breathe in, count slowly to five, and with each number, feel the peace you find within that foundation spread throughout your body. As you breathe out, also count to five – and as you do, strengthen that portion of the wall you intend to build."

McCoy stared, speechless, as within sixty seconds the child's breathing had slowed and deepened, following the captain's directions precisely. Another minute of Kirk's voice calmly washing over the drowsing child, directing his thoughts through a process of peaceful drifting, and then Spock was obviously fast asleep.

Finally the captain stood with a wince, stretching his lower back from its cramped position.

"Guess I'm sleeping in Spock's cabin tonight," he muttered ruefully. "Didn't think this through, did I."

"Huh." He watched as Spock rolled over to his side, still fast asleep, and curled a small hand under his head. Tucking a corner of the blanket back in, he made sure the child was still drowsing, and then turned toward his captain, who was yawning and trying his dead level best to _not_ show that he still had a monstrous headache.

"That sounded suspiciously like Vulcan meditation techniques, Jim," he remarked casually. "A little simplified, of course, but perfect for a child." Hazel eyes blinked innocently at him, and he grinned. "Somebody teachin' you how to meditate before this whole Insonti mess came up, were they?"

Kirk blushed slightly. "Long ago, Bones, back in the early days of our mission…right after the shakedown cruise, actually. I believe the words used after the tenth lesson were 'you are, I believe the human term is, _a hopeless case_, Captain'," he said ruefully.

McCoy's laughter was quiet enough to not wake their sleeping Vulcan, and he dimmed the lights before they headed through the adjoining bathroom to Spock's quarters, leaving the doors open so that Kirk would be able to hear the child if need be.

"Dunno how you're gonna explain to the kid when he's old enough how a human outworlder who can't shut his brain off long enough to meditate is gonna be his _pihlora_ until he grows up." (1)

Kirk froze in the act of setting the bathroom door sensors. "And just how, exactly, do _you_ know that word, Doctor?"

"Uh. Hrm. Well, y'see Jim, after the whole mess with Spock and me havin' to save your ship from the Klingons, and him findin' out about what happened in that mirror universe –"

"Oh come _on_, how is that fair! I'm apparently a hopeless case but he's teaching _you_? You who are so freaked out by all things telepathic that you won't even talk to the fortune-tellers on Risa?"

"Now look, I am not dealin' with two tantrumy children in one night, Jim!"

"_Nam'uh hizhuk_!" a cranky, high-pitched voice fairly bellowed from across the small bathroom and room beyond. (2)

They blinked at each other in silence for a moment.

Then McCoy smirked. "So much for your meditation teaching, Captain."

"Oh, shut up, Bones."

For once, he obeyed, and exited Spock's cabin with a private cackle of glee.

This bizarre Insonti ritual had possibly been the best thing for their unusual tri-une relationship; it had bonded the three of them far closer than they ever would have become, alone and unaided by outside influence. He no longer felt like a third wheel with Spock and Jim anymore, Spock and Jim were closer than they ever had been (if that was possible), and Spock even regarded him with a weird sort of logical affection and an almost scary protectiveness that no doubt stemmed from finally learning what had happened in their mirror universe years before.

And, best of all, _he_ had mastered with little difficulty the rudiments of a Vulcan art which Jim apparently had failed miserably at, despite having the same Vulcan teacher.

Life was _good_.

* * *

(1) Philora is the Vulcan word for a meditation-guide, especially when done through a mind-meld

(2) Simply, "be quiet," in its least emphatic sense (there's a different phrase for Be silent, with or without the exclamation point)


	12. Chapter 12

**Title**: Oversights and Undershirts  
**Series**: Insontis  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: (this bit) Kirk, bb!Spock  
**Word Count**: (this bit) 1957  
**Warnings**: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is _not _in character.  
**Summary**: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The _Enterprise _has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

**This Bit Summary:** In which Jim finds he has a Vulcan stowaway in his bed; or, the _one where he has to chase a footie-pajamaed Spock down the corridor of Deck Five in the middle of a shift change._ Fluff without plot. You've been warned. Happy early Birthday, **sierra_scarlet**!

**Chronological Order of This 'Verse:**

When I Was a Child  
Impeccable Aim  
Lesson One  
A Matter of Genetics  
Taking Sides  
Fangirls  
Out of the Mouth of Babes  
A Two-Way Trust  
Lesson Two  
Unleashed  
Family Interlude  
Artistic License  
Blackmail Potential  
Captain Sunshine  
Sunshine and Darkness  
Ducks in Space  
Smart is Sexy  
Lesson Four  
Never Too Young  
The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Lesson Five  
Persuasive Arguments  
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Catch a Falling Star  
An Infernal Device  
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
The Second Time Around  
Lessons Eight and Nine  
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)  
Outside the Box  
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)  
And So It Begins  
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public  
Never Tease a Vulcan  
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)  
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)  
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds  
First Impressions  
Instincts  
Lesson One, of sorts  
Communication  
Lesson Two  
Lesson Three  
Trust (Lesson Four) (1/2) (2/2)  
Oversights and Undershirts  
Learning Diplomacy  
Lesson Five

* * *

Ordinarily, the sense of wrongness would mean that he sleeps even more lightly than usual; as a starship captain, one gets used to being awakened at all hours and it is a self-preservational instinct more than anything else. He is a very light sleeper, one reason why he despises being forced to remain in Sickbay when injured; the slightest noise is enough to wake him up, and in a ward full of monitors and machines, that gets very old very quickly. And so, spending the night anywhere but his own cabin, usually is sufficient to make him sleep even lighter than is typical.

However, he has always been oddly at peace in Spock's cabin, despite its normally being set to a higher gravity and temperature than a human is accustomed to. This most likely has more to do with the fact that Spock in general seems to be a calming influence upon him; and despite his inability to master the basic concepts of Vulcan meditation, the time spent futilely trying to learn them was in fact the key to unlocking his own methods of mental relaxation.

Spock had said after those futile attempts that his mind was too bright, too chaotic, to fully grasp the concepts successfully, and that it was not an insult, merely an indication of his skill as an innovative starship commander. (Jim privately thinks Spock made that load of crap up just to make him feel better, but he'll never let on to his gentle First Officer).

That being said, he finds himself sleeping just as peacefully in Spock's cabin as he would in his own, despite the slight awkwardness of doing so without really getting his First's permission. However, their personal boundaries have eroded so far in the past few months due to the Insontis saga, that the idea of sleeping there does not phase him in the least (the fact that he is exhausted after a very long day no doubt has something to do with it). He is asleep in moments, after one final check to see that their little Vulcan has at last fallen into the peaceful sleep of a contented child.

Sometime during the night, a sound awakens him, but not fully; he half-listens for a moment, praying it was just the ship making noise and not something which will summon him from Spock's admittedly superior sheets – and after a few moments he hears nothing more, and slips back into dreamland.

He awakens abruptly before any alarm or summons in the morning, because he had been unaware that Spock evidently has his cabin set to mimic natural Vulcan lighting, and that evidently the Vulcan sun rises at a perfectly _ungodly_ hour of ship's morning. He blinks ruefully up at the reddish glow filtering down from the sensors on the ceiling, and throws one arm over his face with a theatrical groan while stretching the other lazily out to his side.

And he instantly freezes when a small muffled yelp sounds from beside him, when his hand smacks something warm and wiggling with enough force to make him scramble up in the bed, terrified he's just unwittingly killed some pet or something Spock had in his cabin, unbeknownst to his captain.

Two dark eyes stare warily at him from under a truly impressive pile of blankets, the depth of which explains why his left side is considerably warmer than his right, and why he did not immediately notice that there is a _Vulcan toddler apparently cuddling up to him in the middle of the night_.

"Spock, you scared me to death," he breathes, slumping back to the pillows. He pinches the bridge of his nose wearily, wondering how to go about this particular situation (he is grateful he slept in full sleep-clothes last night, as that would just be a whole new level of awkwardness).

"That is illogical, as you are neither dead nor capable of being frightened to that state by a being one-third your size," Spock declares solemnly, the words drifting up out of the blanket-burrito, from which he can only barely see a dark mop of silky bedhead.

"It is too early for this without the help of coffee," he groans, rubbing both hands over his face and then propping himself up on one elbow with a sigh. "Spock. I would like to talk to you, not that blanket," he says, eyebrow raised, and a moment later Spock's head wriggles into view, little nose crinkled up as he huffs hair out of his eyes. "What, exactly, are you doing in here?"

"This is my cabin," Spock says reasonably.

"Well, yes, but…if you wanted to sleep in here, I would have moved back to mine, not made you uncomfortable having to share like this."

Spock's ears turn slightly green. "It was not uncomfortable." Kirk tilts his head questioningly, warily, and sees his tiny companion fiddle uneasily with the edge of a fleece blanket. "I…was unable to change the climate controls when I awoke last night," is the unexpected confession, and he immediately is horrified by what he has unwittingly done.

"Oh, Spock – I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to change the climate controls to a Vulcan tolerance," he breathes, rubbing a hand over his face. "You had to have been freezing!"

"Not precisely so, though the temperature was rather uncomfortable for a time," Spock replies matter-of-factly. "Apparently the computer does not recognize my voice commands."

"No, of course not…it didn't recognize mine until after I hit puberty," Kirk muses, still aghast at how he had overlooked something so important last night. "Spock, I really am sorry for forgetting that…you should have woken me!"

Dark eyes blink up at him, puzzled. "Why should I have done such a thing? You needed your rest, Captain-Jim, and I was able to find a satisfactory compromise by locating the extra coverings in a storage compartment and then utilizing your residual body heat for my own comfort."

"Right, I'm not even going to touch that sentence," he mutters, trying not to laugh at the innocent reply. "Spock, if you're ever even uncomfortable, or in pain or something, I want you to feel free to wake me up, or wake up Bones if you're in Sickbay. Did you have any more bad dreams last night?"

Spock squirms within the blanket-folds. "Not after becoming warm enough," he hedges, with all the evasiveness of an adult Vulcan.

"Spock…"

The dark head promptly disappears down into the blanket-cave again, and he cannot help but laugh at the childish gesture; to see his stern and collected First behaving so is a memory he will cherish fondly for the rest of his life.

"You really think you can hide from me, do you?" he challenges, grinning, and begins to dramatically pat down the bed, drawing closer to the obvious lump of hiding baby Vulcan. He sees the outline of a tiny foot and suddenly snatches it. "Gotcha!"

This elicits a colossal shriek of surprise, the effect of which is only partially muffled by the blankets, which he then sweeps away in one grand gesture. Spock freezes in a hilariously sprawled position, staring wide-eyed up at him as if hoping if he does not move he will not be seen.

Laughing too hard to keep himself fully upright, Kirk drops the blankets on the floor and scrubs the sleeve of his sleep-shirt across his eyes. He is therefore entirely taken by surprise when Spock's eyes suddenly gleam with an entirely human mischief, and before he can even make a sound the child has squirreled off the bed and _out the door_ and –

Is running down the corridor of Deck Five.

At the peak of delta shift change.

In rubber-duck-printed footie pajamas.

Holy mother of Surak, adult-Spock is going to _murder_ him if someone gets a picture of that.

"Spock! You get back here _now_, Mister!"

Six doors down, a sleepy Lieutenant Sulu pokes his head out of his cabin, coming wide awake and staring curiously as a tiny blue-and-yellow blur darts past him and on down the corridor.

"Not a word, or I'll have you transferred to Waste Recycling," Kirk mutters through clenched teeth, as he jogs down the corridor in his slippers and grey Starfleet-issue pajamas.

"Didn't see anything, sir!" A perfectly snapped salute, and the door closes, but not before he can hear the young pilot cackling his head off inside the cabin.

Spock is tiny, and ridiculously fast – and so it's not until the child comes up short at the dead-end of a turbolift that he pauses, temporarily stymied, and glances hastily around for another form of exit (Kirk is just thankful that Spock hasn't realized yet that the doorway across the hall is an unlocked storage closet).

But it is, of course, only Kirk's luck that he reaches the little brat just as the lift arrives. He scoops the wriggling, protesting child up in his arms just in time for the door to open.

"Aye, I heard about that."

"And so I said, how do you expect me to repair a circuit board with only one good –"

"Captain Kirk, sir!"

The half-dozen weary delta shift crewmen immediately snap to attention, wide-eyed and obviously trying _not_ to notice the captain's lack of uniform or the rather intimidating scowl their de-aged First Officer is giving the world in general.

Kirk draws himself up to a mirroring stance of attention, pajamas and all, and gives them a curt nod of approval. "As you were, gentlemen," he says with perfect equanimity, entirely ignoring the pouting Vulcan child currently tucked under one arm like an oversized football.

"Uh."

"Aye, sir!"

The lift empties around them in a matter of five awkward seconds, and in less time than that the corridor is again empty.

"If this ends up all over the galactic holo-nets I am going to have very little sympathy, kiddo," Kirk mutters, as he hauls his protesting burden back down the corridor to their cabins.

Spock gives one last limb-flailing squirm and then goes limp with a huff, staring blankly at the floor passing dizzyingly underneath him. "I do not understand your constant desire to…pick me up," the child declares grumpily after a moment of silence.

This time, he does roll his eyes, adorable little Vulcan or no. "It is the most expedient action to ensure you do not run away again, thereby embarrassing yourself by acting in a human manner before several human crewmen, _Spock-kam_."

The child mutters something that he cannot hear, and he grins. "Besides," he continues as they reach their cabins. One dramatic swing and a yelp of surprise, and Spock is now upright in his arms, head bobbing as he tries to orient himself. "It is a natural human instinct to cuddle cute things."

A tiny lip curls in disgust. "I am not _cute_!"

He schools his features into seriousness, nodding solemnly. The door to his cabin opens upon his voice command, and as they enter he is already raising the climate controls to a Vulcan comfort level. "Of course you aren't. I apologize for my…incorrect observation."

Spock squints at him, as if trying to determine the sincerity of his apology, and apparently Jim is as good an actor as he thinks, for the child finally gives him a regal nod. "You are not a scientist, Captain-Jim; such error is understandable."

He manages to turn his laughter into a snort, pursing his lips to keep a straight face. "You are very kind."

"Indeed." And yes, evidently smugness is either not an emotion, or one that is permissible in Vulcan children.

"So perhaps my observation about you wanting strawberry French toast for breakfast is also in error, if my judgment is so unreliable…"

"Captainnnnn!"


End file.
